Memories of You
by WENN9366
Summary: Sequel to "Long Journey Home". Fred and Lizzie's adventures continue, but a certain queen has plans to ruin their lives.
1. A New Dawn

_A/N: This story is the sequel to "The Long Journey Home". You can find that story under my profile or in the DDF movie section.  
_

_This story begins six months after the ending of "The Long Journey Home".  
_

* * *

"_There will be war - it's now or never.  
We shall stand together, one by one.  
This world is sacred."_

_-Blind Guardian_

* * *

The light streaming through the window of their cabin woke Lizzie. She stretched as best as she could without waking the man sleeping next to her. His head was lower than hers, pillowed against her right shoulder, his arm draped across her abdomen. She lay still, enjoying the feel of his warm body next to hers.

It had been almost six months since she had returned to Underland from her world, and it had been the best six months Lizzie had ever known. Two months ago they'd finished rebuilding Fred's cabin (with the help of a few of Marmoreal's builders which Mirana had insisted on providing). Ever since then, they'd been blissfully on their own, half a world away from the castle.

Fred claimed it looked exactly like it had before the Red army had destroyed it, but Lizzie doubted the former dwelling had had running water or a hot shower. He had sneaked 'Above' to get supplies at the expense of her teasing him that he'd gotten soft.

She'd had no interest in going with him. The memories of what had happened in the days before she woke up in Underland after Fred rescued her had never returned, but just the thought of going back gave her chills and made her slightly nauseous.

The thought of nauseousness led her mind to a different subject, one she had made no mention of to Freddie. She wondered, as she lay watching the sun shimmer against the glass of the window, why she wasn't pregnant. Not worried or wished, exactly – just _wondered. _

She rolled over with a sigh, knowing she needed to wake him up – he was supposed to meet Tarrant at Marmoreal later today to discuss a sentry sent to keep watch over Iracebeth who had gone missing. She watched his chest rise and fall with his breathing, then ran her fingers through her husband's short, spiky, red hair. He yawned and tightened his arm around her, not totally awake.

She brushed her hand lightly across his cheek and smiled. There were things about Fred that she would have never conceived of a year ago, other than the obvious (a year ago she had only known him as Drop Dead Fred). At times, she found it hard to remember him like that even though that was how she had known him for most of her life.

_["Freddie...wake up..."]_

_["I've been awake."]_

"You have not, you were snoring not thirty seconds ago."

He opened his eyes and raised himself up on his elbow, grinning down at her. "I was just faking."

She snorted. "You're such a horrible liar."

He finally woke up enough to take in that she was wearing his shirt. "You look sexy in my clothes. What've ya' got on under it?"

"Why don't ya' find out for yourself."

_["You're so naughty...I'm supposed to get up and meet Tarrant today."]_

_["That's not until later."] _

She leaned into him, and he drew her closer to him and kissed her deeply. A loud pounding at the cabin door made them both jump and stopped them in their tracks.

"Somebody better be dyin'," muttered Fred as Lizzie let him up. He threw on some clean clothes then closed the bedroom door discretely behind him. He already knew who it would be. Tarrant was the only other one besides himself and Lizzie who could see the magic doors, and it was the only semi-convenient way to access his cabin. If Tarrant had come that way instead of waiting a couple hours for him to arrive at Marmoreal, something wasn't right.

"What's goin' on?" he asked, holding the door open for his brother.

Tarrant entered and shook his head. "A second one's disappeared."

"A second _what_ – another sentry?"

Mirana had always posted sentries in the Outlands to keep tabs on Iracebeth in exile. A week ago, a sentry had disappeared without a trace. All the men sent to the Outlands were experienced soldiers, trusted and capable. They had endeavored to keep the loss secret for fear too many conclusions about Iracebeth would be tossed about. He could have been killed by an animal or had an accident or something. It was too early to speculate. A second one missing would mean they'd need to start doing just that.

"Aye. And no trace again, either. They need you at Marmoreal. There's a council been set up to discuss th' matter."

Fred groaned as he laced his boots. "Can't ya' just go and set in on it and tell me what happens? Ya' know I'm not th' diplomat o' the family."

"That's just tough. Mirana asked for ya'."

"Alright, give me a minute." He walked back to the bedroom door, knocking before he entered. Lizzie was dressed, making the bed. She looked up at him, worried. "Hey, I've..."

"I heard," she said. "Go ahead, I'll stay here. Let me know what happens."

"I will." He gave her a quick kiss and turned out of the room. He followed his brother out of the cabin and through the doors that would lead to the castle.

Fred and Lizzie had spent countless hours searching the land around the cabin for another door. It made sense to Fred that since some doors had other doors very close by them, so you didn't have far to walk to get somewhere, there had to be several that he'd missed. He'd reasoned that the one in northern Witzend should have a companion door nearby.

It was Lizzie who finally found it, hidden in the side of a cliff, blending in so perfectly with it's surroundings he was still amazed she'd seen it. Opening it up was like Christmas morning, and they had walked through it into the field of gowen in Snud, close to the door they'd come through on their trip from the Crystal Cavern to Marmoreal.

It cut the trip to Marmoreal from four hours to less than one – and that was if you weren't in a hurry.

* * *

The scene outside the castle of the White Queen reminded Fred of a carnival, only no one was there to have any fun. There were creatures and people there from all parts of Underland – small and large. Some he recognized by their colors as Outlandish clansmen. He'd never associated with them - they kept to themselves and he had never had an interest in meeting them (or anyone else) when he'd been living in the Outlands.

He thought the whole affair was a bit over zealous – just because two sentries disappeared didn't mean Iracebeth had anything to do with it, and if she had he didn't know why the entire world had to be involved. Just run her through and be done with it. A courtier saw him and hurried over.

"Sir, the Queen has been waiting for you in the council chamber. Shall I escort you?"

"No, thanks, I know where it is."

He made his way into the castle, not caring one bit for the stares and whispers he caught as he passed. It had been so long since he'd played the role of royal advisor.._.or royal guinea pig_...that he wasn't sure how clear a read he'd be able to get of the visitors anyway.

He stopped and turned around, taking a detour through the Great Hall before going to meet Mirana - there should be plenty of people there. He'd avoided reading others thoughts, save Lizzie's, for so long that he needed to make sure he even still could. In the Great Hall, which was packed with those from far and wide, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reaching out with his mind.

Like tendrils of smoke, his consciousness weaved through the crowd, around and around, searching. He sensed a great deal of fear, most of these people were farmers – people from small settlements who remembered the vicious slavery endured at the hands of the former Red Queen. He opened his eyes, passing through more of the crowd. He concentrated, trying to pick up any individual thoughts. Much was closed to him now, though he wasn't sure if it was due to loss of skill or just being rusty. One man was worried about his daughter, she was ill.

He walked on, passing a group of men in Outlandish clothing talking quietly amongst themselves. The leader of the group was obvious – a huge man, nearly three times the size of Freddie, easily seven feet tall with wavy, shoulder length black hair and a wide girth. Over his back was draped a dark cloak - the shoulders covered by feathers as black as night. His complexion was deeply tanned and ruddy, with a mustache and short but unkempt beard.

A vision shot through Freddie's mind – _a bloodied hand with a knife, carving the heart out of a corpse, its eyes pale, its skin the skin of the dead - thick and white. He could hear the flesh ripping as the serrated blade cut through it._

In reality, he stumbled, but caught himself before he attracted much attention. The man turned around, fastening his eyes on him, and he knew the hand had belonged to this man. Fred turned quickly and left the room.

He entered the council chamber, relieved to see only Mirana and Tarrant.

"Ya' look like ya' saw a ghost, little brother."

He could tell Tarrant's stress level simply by the thickness of his accent. "I did," he said. "Who is the Outlander? The big one."

"He ain't a ghost."

"No...I had a vision of him. Who is he?"

"He is Remenhal of Northern Outland," said Mirana. "He commands the clans there."

"He's a murderer."

Mirana gave him a long look. "That may be, but we have no say over their laws or customs."

Freddie shook his head slowly. "In the vision, I saw him cut the heart from a corpse. He's dealing in something far worse than what laws and customs decree - I can feel it."

There was a time when Mirana might have dismissed Freddie's visions as imagination or simply being mistaken. That time had ended 16 years ago with the slaughter of the clans of Iplam and Witzend. He had warned them – had warned them all, but none of them had listened. Now he was having visions again, well trained sentries were missing, and they were blind to Iracebeth and had been for over two weeks.

"I don't know, Freddie," she said, honestly, "I don't know what it means or what to tell you. He's part of the council, and if we leave him out, it's likely none of the Outlandish clans will stay. They trust us about as much as we trust them...not much at all, but we need them here or else we'll have no one in the Outlands to turn to if we need help."

He raked his hand though his hair, frustrated. "I don't even know why we're calling everyone in Underland together. What is this all about...really? If this is some diplomatic crap, you can count me out. If Iracebeth's giving us problems, we should just go take care of her once and for all and be done with her." The words were out of his mouth before he even considered how it might sound to someone who had no idea of the history between himself and Iracebeth. Mirana glared at him and he felt her anger and confusion. "I'm sorry, Miri... that was thoughtless of me."

"There was a time you considered her a friend."

"Yes...there was," he answered, quietly.

"This isn't just 'diplomatic crap', Freddie. If Iracebeth is raising an army, no one is safe. Your vision could be a clue that she is in Northern Outland. That is where the last sentry we had reports from three weeks ago placed her, and if she's banding with the clans there, it's best to keep Remenhal here where we can watch him."

"You mean where _I_ can watch him."

"For now, perhaps. I'm sorry," she said, gently. "I know my parents made you bitter about using your gift, but we each have a role to play. You're the only one who can do what you do."

He said nothing for a moment, considering. Finally he looked at her, determination set on his face. "For Underland."

"For Underland," she agreed.

"Aye," said Tarrant, "for Underland."


	2. The Council of Underland

"_Save tonight, and fight the break of dawn.  
Come tomorrow - tomorrow I'll be gone."_

_-Eagle Eye Cherry_

* * *

The council wasn't a place he felt comfortable at all. The last time Fred had stood in this room, he was sixteen, just a kid - naively thinking his life couldn't get any worse. Now, not only did he have to be here, he wasn't even allowed to stand quietly on the sidelines. Mirana was making him actually sit at the table. By the time the three stepped out of the chamber, the ones called for the council were already waiting. Most of them were human, but Absolem was there, along with two bears, a cormorant, and an old gryphon. It had been a long time since the Council of Underland had gathered, each representative bearing their own colors and standards. A flicker of sorrow burned in his soul for the missing blue of Iplam, and he wished he would have at least been allowed to bear the green of Witzend, though he and Tarrant were the last of the once proud clan. Instead they stood with Mirana, a guard bearing the white flag of Marmoreal behind them.

Mirana took her seat at the head of the huge table, Tarrant and Fred taking the seats to either side. Fred glanced around, trying to identify the provinces present by their colors. The first he noticed was the black of Northern Outland, behind Remenhal. There was brown for Snud, who weren't clans but a collection of small farming communities. The same was true for the yellow of Queast. There was no red flag of Crims present. Though small communities existed there, they had been so devastated by the Red Queen's slavery that their numbers were sparse and still too far outspread to have had much association with each other. There was also orange for the clans of Southern Outland. The man representing them couldn't be much older than Fred himself, and he could sense he wanted to be there about as much as he did.

"Thank you for coming," Mirana began. "It has been over two decades since the Council of Underland has met, and unfortunately it meets again, not to share happy news as it once did during my father's reign, but to discuss the disappearance of sentries set to guard the former Red Queen of Crims and some other disturbing news which has lately come to my attention. "

Fred wasn't aware of any other news other than the vision he'd had. She wouldn't be discussing that so he wondered what she knew that he didn't.

"Illynyr of Southern Outland has received disturbing reports of a new fortress having been built somewhere to the north of them." A murmur of surprise wafted across the council. Freddie, as surprised as he himself was by the information, automatically fell back into the role he'd played long ago. Quickly he scanned the minds around the table, all the reactions were the same...save one. His eyes met those of Remenhal. _ He_ wasn't surprised at all. Fred glanced away casually.

"Reports of 'somewhere' seem a bit too vague to be relied on," said Remenhal in a deep voice, thick with sarcasm. "Perhaps those of the south should stick to their festivals and dances instead of sending boys to sit where men should be."

Illynyr's face flushed, and he jumped to his feet, staring down the man down. "My father sat on this council when you were nothing but a huntsman! Perhaps the north should send someone of blood to represent them!"

"Perhaps we should find out what color _yours_ is!" Remenhal stood, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Gentlemen!" said Mirana. "This is neither the time nor place for this! Please, take your seats."

Both sat, but the tension between the two was palatable in the air.

"We need more information about what is happening. Two scouts have disappeared, and we have been blind as to Iracebeth's activities for far too long. I've called you each here to warn you to prepare to defend yourselves should she once again be raising an army. Of the fortress, even if it is true, we have no proof, and I cannot afford to send individual scouts out to disappear."

"What are you telling us?" the man from Snud asked. "Are you saying we are to prepare for war? I know we're all aware of the viciousness of the exiled queen, but surely this is a bit premature."

"I'm not suggesting that war is at hand," Mirana reassured him, merely to prepare yourselves for any future surprises. Sixteen years ago, we were not, and many paid the price for our laxity."

"Perhaps you should send your own advisor out, Mirana," suggested Remenhal. "He seems quite...observant."

"I don't know what yer talkin' about," said Tarrant.

"Not _you_." The man pointed to Freddie. "_Him._ You are a seer, are you not?"

Freddie suddenly found himself at the center of unwanted attention. "I see what wants to be seen," he said, quietly. "That is all."

"It might be the best idea," said the man from Queast, "if you cannot spare another. We certainly have no one qualified."

"He has spent time living in the Outlands, as well, has he not?" asked Remenhal of Mirana.

There wasn't much she could say other than the truth. "He has." She turned to Fred. "If you are willing, Frederick (had she ever used his full name? She wasn't sure.), it would be a great service to us...and to Underland," she added.

What could he do but agree? Between the two of them alone, he and Mirana might behave as brother and sister, but in public she was the White Queen of Marmoreal, and he knew his place. "I would be honored," he said, not meeting her eyes.

"We are in your debt then," she said. "You will need to leave before first light."

"Yes, my queen." He strove to keep the bitterness from his voice, knowing she had been forced into this decision just as much as he had.

* * *

"I'm so sorry, Freddie," said Mirana. The council had disbanded not long after the decision and they found themselves alone in the room. "This wasn't my intention."

"I know," he said, "but he's right. I'm the best qualified to go, regardless of whether I want to or not. There _is_ a door into Northern Outland. I won't be that far away in case I need to leave quickly. The longest part of the journey will be getting to the door in northern Crims that leads there." The sky was already beginning to darken outside. "I need to go...Lizzie's not going to like this at all."

Mirana nodded. "Fairfarren, Freddie."

He took a deep breath. "Fairfarren, Miri."

* * *

Lizzie had kept her silence all day, not wanting to interrupt Fred in case he was still in the council. Now with it turning dark, she spoke to him.

_[Is it over?]_

He sighed. He'd rather talk to her about it face to face, but there was no escaping it now._ [Yes.]_

_[Good. Then you can tell me what's going on. And don't tell me it's nothing.]_

_[Iracebeth has built a new fortress.]_ There was no answer from Lizzie. She was waiting for more. _[No one knows much about it.] _ He felt a mixture of anxiety, fear, and resignation from her.

_[So you got volunteered.]_

_[It wasn't really a choice. Somehow the guy from Northern Outland knew about me having lived there. He brought it up and Mirana had no choice but to send me. I'm sorry, Lizzie, you know it wasn't my idea, but they're right. I know the land better than most.]_

_[Two men have already disappeared without a trace.]_

_[I won't be the third.] _He thought to her, determinedly.

_[Telling me that doesn't make it so. Where are you?]_

_[I just got to Queast. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes.]_

_[Okay.]_

She was crying, he could feel it. _[Lizzie...]_

_[Just come home, Fred.]_

He came through the door by the cabin to find her sitting against a tree not far off, waiting for him. It was almost fully dark as he went and sat down beside her. Neither said a word as he put his arm around her and she lay her head against his shoulder. They sat quietly for a long time, Lizzie knowing there was nothing she could say to keep him from going and Fred knowing there was nothing he could say to ease her mind. Finally, he said the only thing he could say.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to say that. I know there's nothing you could have done about it. I'm just worried about you, that's all."

He hugged her to himself. "You know I'd be lying if I said I wasn't, too, but I'm not planning on being a hero. Just try to see what's going on and then go straight back to Marmoreal...that's it."

She sighed and sat back so she could see his face and brushed her fingers across his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning his face into her hand. "Just come home to me."

He opened his eyes and smiled. "You _are_ my home, Lizzie," he said. "I don't know where or what I'd be without you. I never want to find out."

She kissed his cheek. "You'll never have to."

He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips, once – then smiled and kissed her again, lingeringly. _[I believe we have unfinished business from this morning to attend to,] _he thought to her as he snaked his hand behind her, wrapping one of the laces of her dress around his finger and pulling it loose.

_[You'd better finish what you started.]_

_[I don't recall me starting it, but I'll be happy to finish it..._]

* * *

The lamp was still lit, burning low on the table beside their bed – just light enough for them to see. They lay face to face, just watching each other, each trying to commit every trace of the other to memory.

_[We need to sleep.] _he thought.

_[I don't want to sleep. When I wake up, you'll be gone.]_

_[I'll wake you before I leave. Are you staying here or going to Marmoreal?]_

_[I'll go to Marmoreal after lunch. Will you be back tomorrow night?]_

_[I should be if I get an early enough start in the morning. I'll just go straight there, then. Mirana will want a report anyway.]_

She turned over and backed up against him so that her head was under his chin. He put his arm around her waist and, after a while, they both slept.

In the shadows outside the cabin, a tall figure waited patiently.

* * *

Fred woke while it was still dark. He reached behind him for the watch (pilfered from above) on the table beside the bed. Time didn't really flow by 24 hour standards here, but he'd slept nearly five hours and it was still dark. It was time to leave. He groaned to himself, loathe to leave the warmth of the bed and his wife who still slept peacefully in his arms.

"Lizzie..."

"...nooo..," she groaned. "...'snot time t'go."

He kissed her cheek. "It is, I'm sorry. I have to."

She rolled over and opened her eyes, looking up at him. "Please be careful."

"I will, I promise."

She smiled faintly. "Promises'll get you into trouble."

He smiled back and kissed her forehead. "I think I've made a few good ones." He got out of bed and dressed in dark clothing, then took his cloak out of the drawer and clasped it at his neck. He took his sword from another drawer and buckled it around his waist.

She sat up on the bed, and he leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. "Be back before you know it."

"You'd better be."

He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Lizzie lay back down and listened until she could no longer hear his footsteps outside the cabin, then drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Freddie traveled from door to door, walking nearly an hour from the border of Tulgey Wood to the clearing whose door led to the Room of Doors. Another walk east took him to the door to northern Crims. He paused in front of the door that led from Crims to the Northern Outlands. He threw his hood up, hiding his flaming red hair, and drew his sword. He didn't know what to expect, but the thing he was most worried about was that Iracebeth would have someone stationed in the vicinity of the gate. If Remenhal had given allegiance to her, she would know that he was coming. He opened the door and walked through. It didn't look much different than he remembered it, a forest ultimately was just a forest regardless of which plants had lived or died. He walked about a quarter of a mile away, out of the area of the gate and addressed the trees.

"I'm looking for a new fortress. Can you show me where?"

The trees rustled faintly, but an old oak near him was the only one who spoke, his voice merely a whisper. "They will not sssspeak...she will burn...those who talk..."

"You don't have to lead me, just point me the right way."

"Acrossss..the ssstream...beware...the dead are...not..."

"Are not what?"

"...beware...beware..." That was the end of the tree's information.

The stream, if he remembered correctly, was to his left. He crossed over and walked on almost another mile. Ahead, the sun shone brightly through the trees. He slowed down, this should be a dense forest – there were no fields here and the light in the trees meant there was a clearing ahead that hadn't been there before. As he neared it, the trees he noticed were all dead. Several of them had been torched, their trucks like giant burnt matchsticks stuck into the earth. The dead undergrowth crunched under his boots and he placed each step carefully, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Finally he reached the outskirts of the woods. He was on a rise of land, looking down on a dark, stone fortress. It was only half the size of the one in Crims and built, not with beauty in mind as the former had been originally, but sheer functionality. There was activity on the side of the fortress to the right of him, so he slowly circumvented the clearing until he could see what was happening. Before him was the strangest and easily the most horrifying sight he'd ever witnessed. A wagon stood, it's bulging cargo covered by a tarp, beside a large bonfire. As he watched, soldiers wearing the black of the Northern clans carrying pitchforks, threw back the tarp and began raking objects out of the wagon onto the ground. It quickly became apparent, even from his distance, that the objects were bodies. Fred felt sick as he watched the pile grow larger. When the wagon was empty, the soldiers each dragged a corpse aside and cut the heart from it, throwing it into the fire, and tossed the body into the courtyard beyond them. Time passed, the soldiers' gruesome task completed, and the courtyard was now filled with the heartless dead. From out of his sight, the solemn notes of a hunting horn reverberated through the valley. The sound chilled him to his bones, and Fred watched as the bodies in the field struggled to their feet.

A sound behind him made him spin around and he found himself face to face with a soldier. It was no ordinary man - it's pale eyes regarded him unseeingly, it's skin, though well preserved, hung from it's bones, and there was a gaping, ragged hole where his heart had once beat. Fred jumped back as it advanced on him, drawing his sword just in time to stop the short sword of soldier from taking off his head. He met each blow, hacking at it with strikes that should have killed a mortal man. His claymore sliced through it's arm which fell to the ground, but still the soldier fought on. Finally, he knocked the undead man off his feet and with a final strike, chopped off its head. He watched as it dissolved into dust and blew away. Fred didn't wait to see if there were anymore soldiers lurking about, he sheathed his sword and took off running towards the door to Crims. Though the dead man's skill was sub-par, it wouldn't be easy to dispatch more than one at a time, and right now he alone held the knowledge of what was happening in the Outlands. He had to make it back to Marmoreal and Mirana. As he neared the door he again heard the sound of the hunting horn, echoing through the forest.

* * *

It was evening before he made it to Marmoreal. He ran inside, towards the Great Hall, but not finding Mirana turned back to the kitchen. Thackery was cooking something, hopping around, muttering to himself.

"Where's Mirana?" Fred asked.

"Hmm...not here. Want soup?"

"No, thank you." He found a footman outside and asked him to have the Queen meet him in the council chamber.

He ran up to the room and waited. Mirana finally appeared, closing the door behind her.

"You're back sooner than I though you would be," she said, surprised.

"I saw all I needed to see."

"Which was?"

He took a seat before continuing. "Someone has built a fortress in Northern Outland and is raising an army of the dead."

"What do you mean 'army of the dead'?"

"I meant it like I said it. The huntsmen of the North are pillaging their dead and raising them to fight. "

"What are you talking about?" Mirana whispered.

"I saw a wagon load of dead bodies get turned un-dead and start wandering around - one tried to take my head off!"

Mirana looked at him, and he felt her uncertainty. "Who else did you see?"

"I'm not crazy, Mirana. I know what I saw, and I didn't stick around to meet anyone else."

"I didn't say you were crazy, Freddie. It's just...not what I expected."

"What did ya' expect, Miri? I'd waltz over there and Racie'd offer me tea?" he asked. "I think you underestimate what she's capable of...and what she'd _like_ to be capable of." He was tired of talking about it. "Where's Lizzie? I'd just as soon go home right now. I've told you all I know."

"Lizzie? I don't know. I haven't seen her."

Fred's heart skipped a beat as he realized he hadn't heard her all day.

_["Lizzie? Lizzie?"]_ There was no answer. He'd been so caught up in what he'd found in the Outlands, he didn't notice until now that he couldn't sense her. "What do you mean, she's not here? Where did she go?"

"She hasn't been here all day."

He didn't say anything, just turned and ran from the castle, through the doors until he got to Northern Witzend. He burst into the cabin, calling her name. Everything was in place, but the cabin was silent. The door to the bedroom was open and he went in. Something wasn't right here. The bed was not only unmade, but the quilt from the top was missing. He scanned the rest of the room and his heart stopped as he knelt and picked up the two objects laying on the floor – a silver wedding band and a wooden promise ring.

Return to Top


	3. A Bird in the Hand

_A/N: It might be a week before the next update, my internet is really horrible right now, so we're switching providers. Plus, I was writing chapter 6 and absolutely hating it and stuck with no inspiration. So, hard as it was, I completely scrapped chapters 4 and 5, rewrote the end of 3 and now I'm happy with it, but I just finished the new chapter 4 and I like to keep a few chapters ahead_. :)

* * *

"_Dogs of war and men of hate  
with no cause, we don't discriminate.  
Discovery is to be disowned,  
our currency is flesh and bone..._

_One world, it's a battleground.  
One world, and we're gonna smash it down"_

_-Pink Floyd_

* * *

Stayne smiled to himself as he tossed the sleeping woman to a waiting soldier and dismounted his horse. Iracebeth's instructions had been clear and he had followed them to a 'T'. He'd waited until the man had left and the woman had had plenty of time to go back to sleep before quietly entering the dark cabin and making his way to the bedroom. Iracebeth had given him dreamwort, warning him to make sure the woman didn't wake up first and warn her husband. She'd never even stirred and he'd given her an extra dose, just to make sure could appreciate all the nasty side effects when she woke up. The ring was next and since he couldn't remember which one she had said he must remove at all cost, he simply removed both of them, tossing them on the floor before he bound the unconscious woman and wrapped her in the quilt from her bed. The horse was the fastest one of the Northern realms, and he had made it across the Outland mountains before the sun was barely up.

He took the Upland woman back from the soldier, threw her over his shoulder, and went in search of Iracebeth. She was waiting for him as he entered the throne room. He lowered the woman from his shoulder into his arms as he knelt before her.

"I have the Uplander, as you requested, my queen."

A slow smile lit Iracebeth's face as she glanced at the bound form before her. "Very good, Stayne. Please show her to the guest quarters until she wakes. Elizabeth and I have lots of catching up to do..."

"Yes, your majesty." Stayne took Lizzie down to the dungeon and dumped her in.

* * *

Lizzie awoke several hours later with a blinding, splitting headache. Her arms were bound behind her and from the cramps in her muscles thought they must have been for some time. In fact, there weren't many places that didn't hurt.

_[Fred...]_ she thought before she realized she couldn't sense his mind as she normally could. She felt on her hands to find both of her rings missing. Panic gripped her as she realized that, not only did she have no idea where she was, but Fred would have no idea either without their bond. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down (she wouldn't be much use to herself if she couldn't think straight) and struggled to her feet. It was dark, but there was light coming in through the one window of what she presumed was some sort of a cell that she was in. She went over and looked out. A torch burned in the hallway, otherwise it was dark, dank, and quiet – reminding her of her grandmother's root cellar.

"Hello?" she called, quietly. Her voice echoed off the walls and gave her the creeps. - speaking was probably a bad idea anyway. She doubted she was going to like anyone who answered her in a place like this anyway. She worked at the rope binding her hands, trying to loosen it, and she thought she might be getting somewhere when she heard heavy footfalls outside the door and a key twisting in the lock. She shrank back to the far corner and waited. The door opened and a tall man entered. His features were silhouetted by the light falling in through the door behind him. He strode into the room, and Lizzie turned away as he came up to her. He grabbed her painfully by the arm, jerking her back around. "Her majesty's been waiting to see you, Uplander," he rasped. "I hope you enjoyed your nap."

"Who are you?" she whispered. He turned towards the light and she saw that a black heart covered one deeply scarred eye.

"That's none of your concern right now," he said, then leaned over and whispered close to her ear. "Though perhaps when Iracebeth is done with you, we can get better acquainted."

"I think not."

The man only laughed. "I'm sure she has lovely plans for you first, never fear."

He lead her up a stone staircase and through a short hallway to a set of heavy wooden doors with two guards standing at either side. They opened them as she and the man approached.

"Make sure the queen is not disturbed," he told them.

He led Lizzie into a long chamber. At the end, on a throne, sat a woman in a black dress with long, wavy, crimson hair. Lizzie knew who she must be, though she looked quite different from the woman Alice had described. This woman's head appeared to be of normal size and her hair hung in long waves over her shoulders and fell to her waist. She looked younger than Lizzie had imagined, more how Fred had described her the one time he'd talked about her. Though if she was around Tarrant's age, she would be in her early 40's now. Something Lizzie had read once (when trying to figure out what was wrong with her mother) came to mind. It went something to the effect of those who don't live in the real world don't age as quickly as those of us who do.

The man shoved her hard, and she lost her balance, falling to her knees in front of the former queen. She picked herself up, not taking her eyes of Iracebeth who looked her over as though considering whether she was worth the effort or perhaps should be tossed out with the day's garbage.

"So...," said the queen, ambivalently, a light lisp coloring her voice, "you are Elizabeth Hightopp, I presume?"

"You had me brought here, I'm sure you know who I am," answered Lizzie.

The queen smiley tritely, "You don't need your tongue for what I have planned for you. You'd be wise not to speak to me like that again."

Lizzie just glared at her. Iracebeth stood and walked down the stairs towards her. She was petite, and stopped on the bottom step, maintaining her height over Elizabeth. Iracebeth smiled sweetly at her and leaned closer, speaking in a whisper loud enough for only the two of them to hear.

"We have something in common, you and I," she said. "Tell me, Lizzie...whose name does Freddie scream when you make love – yours...or _mine_?"

"What do you want with me?" asked Lizzie, ignoring Iracebeth's comment. "Uplanders don't have any special powers."

The queen smirked. "Don't flatter yourself. It's not you I'm concerned with." She glanced at Stayne. "Bring her. Let's see if she gets to live a little longer or if I slit her throat today."

Stayne with Lizzie followed Iracebeth to a small room hidden behind the throne room. Lizzie noted that it looked remarkably similar to Mirana's kitchen laboratory. Fear crept through her as she remembered what Fred had said her area of expertise was – dominion over living creatures. She wouldn't be drinking anything - Iracebeth could just kill her first. The queen took what looked like a glass beaker of some sort, with a clear liquid in it, from the table. She pursed her lips and turned her head to the side.

Iracebeth noticed her behavior and laughed. "So he _has_ told you what happened, hasn't he? This isn't for you to drink." She took a small dagger from her dress and Lizzie cried out as Iracebeth swiped the blade across her arm. Blood dripped freely from the wound and Iracebeth held the beaker of liquid underneath, catching it. Finally she placed it back on the table and took some powder from a vial, adding it to the liquid, and stirred. As Lizzie watched, the red liquid turned to dark blue.

Iracebeth smiled and looked up at Lizzie. "I guess it's your lucky day."

* * *

There was only one person Fred knew of in Underland who would have taken Lizzie. It was night now and he knew it was the only advantage he was going to have. A torch would call too much attention to himself, but he'd stowed a flashlight in the table by the bed. He made his way quickly through the doors until, for the second time that day, he stood in the forest of Northern Outland. He didn't go directly to the fortress, but around it, hoping there would be a way in unguarded through the back. Crouching at the edge of the woods, he scanned the courtyard before him, instinctively keeping his mind focused around and behind him. The way before him was impassible. By the light of several enormous bonfires, he could see that four columns of soldiers stood at the ready. Freddie guessed there must be at least fifty per column, making nearly 250 soldiers. He was too far away to see them in detail, but from the way they carried themselves – limply, leaning askew, with ragged clothing – he guessed they were all dead.

The thought had only just crossed his mind that, being dead, he might not be able to sense their presence when a twig snapped behind him and he turned around to find himself surrounded by half a dozen undead soldiers. He drew his sword in time to catch the first blows of their blades to reign down on him. There was only so much he could do in the dim light and from his crouched position, and he steeled himself for the blow he knew he would inevitably strike him. From the courtyard, close to the edge of the woods where Fred was fighting for his life came the notes of the hunting horn he'd heard earlier that day. As suddenly as they had attacked, the soldiers stopped – standing limply, unmindful of the man they had been attacking seconds before. Freddie stood up and turned around to see Remenhal astride an enormous black steed. In his hand he held the leashes of four hunting dogs, each with hair as black as coal and teeth as sharp as razors. A golden hunting horn was slung about his neck.

"Come out!" His deep voice seemed to echo through the valley around them. "Come out or I'll let them finish the job." Fred walked out from the edge of the forest. "Oh ho! The seer! Did you lose something on your way home today or just come back t' say 'hello'?" Remenhal pointed to his sword. "You won't be needing that where you're goin'. Drop it."

Fred gave him an angry grimace and dropped his claymore. "What did Iracebeth offer you?" he asked scornfully. "A full bowl of scraps at dinner or a quick death when she gets tired of having you for a lap dog?"

"Better than that," answered the huntsman. "Command of her new army. An army that never needs to rest or sleep – one without the inconvenience of moral convictions."

"You seem to be unburdened by such yourself."

"I work for the highest bidder. Follow me to the castle. Run and you die."

Fred followed his horse to the castle, flanked on either side by the undead soldiers while the dogs yelped and ran ahead. As they neared the castle, they passed through the columns of soldiers he'd seen earlier from a distance. Some of these had been had been long dead, apparently buried without performing the charm that kept them from decaying. Some had skin that was nearly mummified and leather-like – stretched tightly over their bones, each with gaping holes where their hearts had been cut from their bodies. Remenhal led them on further and they passed through a different column of soldiers, these looking as newly dead as the day they'd died. Freddie's blood turned to ice in his veins. Among these were men, women, and even taller children, all with similar wounds, burnt and charred skin, torn as though rent by great claws. Several were dressed in the kilts and tartans of their clans – gathering clothes. Though tattered and ragged, he could still identify the pattern...these people were from the clans of Iplam. He turned his face away from their dead, unseeing eyes. What had she done? There could only be one place these dead could have come from – the mass graves of Horunvendush day. If Iracebeth had desecrated those...

They entered the rear gate of the fortress and Remenhal blew a series of notes on the golden horn and the undead soldiers fell back, blending into the ranks of the column behind him. He had his own men bind Fred's arms before leading him up through the rear staircase to the thick, double doors and into the throne room. Fred didn't look up even when Remenhal stopped him.

"Freddie," said Iracebeth, charmingly. "What a nice surprise. Have you met my new favorite? Lizzie, say 'hello'."

Fred's head snapped up at her words, and he found himself staring at his wife, seated beside Iracebeth.

"Hello," said Lizzie, quietly.

She hardly did more than glance at him, and Fred felt quickly for her thoughts, but there was nothing there but a jumbled mess. "What have you done to her?" he asked Iracebeth, viciously. "She's done nothing to you!"

Iracebeth said nothing, merely turned to Lizzie and said matter-of-factly, "You may go now, Lizzie. I will call for you later."

Lizzie stood and answered demurely, "Yes, your majesty," and stepped down from beside the throne. Fred tried to reach for her as she passed him, but the guards held him fast. Instead he shouted, "Lizzie! Lizzie, look at me!"

She stopped and turned towards him, confusion etched on her face. "I'm sorry," she said, quietly, shaking her head, "I don't know who you are." She quickened her pace, leaving the room.

"Thank you, Remenhal," said Iracebeth, "Stayne will take him from here. You are dismissed."

"But, Your Majesty..."

"I said 'You are dismissed'!" she shouted at the huntsman. The man grimaced but reluctantly gestured to his soldiers to release Fred. Stayne, who Fred had not even noticed was present, came to stand by him as the others left the room.

Freddie turned to Iracebeth. "What have you done?" he asked, coldly.

Iracebeth merely looked at him and began to laugh. "You...you should have seen your face." she cackled. "That itself was worth having you brought here alive. Don't you agree, Stayne?"

"Quite, my queen."

She chuckled a bit more and then fell silent, her face suddenly serious. She got up and walked down the stairs to stand in front of him. "What have I done? Why I took you away from her." She leaned closer to him. "Every day, every hour, every smile, every kiss, every touch, all her memories of you...I took them all away, and do you know what I found, Freddie? It was the most peculiar thing, wasn't it Stayne?"

"Very much so, my queen."

"When I took you out of her mind, she suddenly stopped fighting me. It was as though her own will just vanished "Poof!" into thin air."

"Iracebeth, she's no use to you! She has no powers. Let her go – take me instead," pleaded Fred.

A slow smile spread across the queen's face. "So..," she said, "we finally find out what makes you 'tick'. That's sweet, but _that_ offer is off the table. You had your chance, and to be perfectly honest I'd rather just chop off your head in the morning. You're right, I could care less if your bitch lives or dies, but she has something that I need, so she'll outlive you...for a while, at least."

There was something behind her eyes, a giddiness, something that frightened him as much as it brought her obvious glee. "What are you talking about?" he whispered.

"You don't know, do you?" she asked, smiling wickedly at him. "Your wife is with child, Freddie."

He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't breathe...he fell to his knees, wondering how he could not have known.

She knelt beside him and whispered in his ear, "Don't worry, I'll keep her nice and cozy until then. I'll even let her remember you after it's born...before I cut her heart out and give her to my huntsmen." She ran her fingers through his hair, recalling in vivid details the last time she had touched him intimately, knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from reading her thoughts. She smirked as he flinched and turned away. "And then I'll raise your child as my own..."

"No!" He looked up, tears streaming from his eyes. "'Racie..._why_? _Why_?" he cried.

She wiped the tears from his cheeks. "Why? Because I _can_."

* * *

_A/N: Racie's so fun to write :) I think she'll be hanging around a while. _

_And thanks to Dita who started me thinking about giving Freddie and Lizzie a kid...though this probably wasn't what she had in mind, lol.  
_

_The title reference - "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush..."_


	4. A Life Forgotten

"_Wrapped inside a twisted world,  
I can't decide what is even real anymore -  
as though I ever knew.  
Tangled in these silhouettes,  
floating face down in a river of regrets  
and thoughts of you..."_

_-Tara Maclean_

* * *

Lizzie looked out over the balcony of the room she had found herself in after she'd woken up with another horrible, pounding headache and absolutely no idea where she was. A woman had been there, sitting beside her bed, watching her with an intense gaze that made her feel as though she was perhaps a bit of roadkill and the petite woman, dressed in black with long crimson hair was the vulture, waiting to see if she was still alive or not.

The woman looked very familiar (though when she tried to remember where she'd seen her, all she could see was darkness, like a moonless, starless, night). She had introduced herself as Iracebeth, queen of Underland (and wasn't Mirana queen of Underland? But that was a bit fuzzy as well) and told Lizzie that she'd fallen through a rabbit hole in her world and Iracebeth had found her, wandering - lost and alone, and had brought her here to her castle and had nursed her back to health. Lizzie didn't remember any of that and told the queen so.  
"Poor child," Iracebeth had said, "You had quite a bump on the head when you were found. I'm sure everything will become clear to you in time."

The queen had left her then, telling her that this would be her room now and that she was free to roam the castle, but under no circumstances was she to go outside or down to the dungeons. The dungeons didn't seem like a place she'd want to be anyway, so she had agreed...until now.

She wanted to see him. The man that Iracebeth had told her was no one. He seemed, Lizzie didn't know... something about him intrigued her, even though she'd never seen him before. From her vantage point on the balcony, she saw the guard leave the outer door that Iracebeth had pointed out as the entrance to the dungeon. Her heart beat faster as she considered what she was about to do. Throwing caution to the wind, she grabbed the pitcher of water from beside the bed as an excuse in case she met anyone and quietly left her room, making her way out of the castle and down the stairs to where the prisoners were kept. It was dark and dank, and seemed very familiar, as though she'd been here before. There was no one else but him there, and the room he was in had a window at eye level. He jumped to his feet as she peered in at him, and ran to the window.

"Lizzie!" he whispered.

It was all a little too daunting for her – this man who somehow seemed to know her, and how quickly he'd rushed over to her. She turned aside, away from the window, not a little frightened, and realized this was probably a foolish thing to be doing. She moved across the hallway and started back up the stairs.

"Wait! Please don't go...I'm sorry if I frightened you. Elizabeth, please, can't I just talk to you? Just for a minute?"

She stopped. He really seemed fairly harmless, and after all there was a locked door between them. Slowly she turned back around and walked over to the window, though not too close. "How do you know my name?" she asked.

Fred found himself in a conundrum. She obviously had no idea who he was, and if he told her everything that had happened to her and who he was to her, chances were she wouldn't believe him and it would scare her off. Her mind was completely jumbled, and Fred couldn't make sense of anything. There were parts that were still there, but there were parts that were either fuzzy or just dark – not the dark madness that he always sensed with Iracebeth thankfully, just dark - as though those parts had been cut out and nothing was left. Two emotions were strong – fear and curiosity. He'd felt them waring with one another when she'd turned around on the stairs and come back to him.

"I'm a friend," he said, not wanting to lie to her. "I know you're confused about what's going on. I know someone who can help you."

"What do you mean?"

"There are things you're having trouble remembering, aren't there – like how did you get to Underland?"

"I fell down a rabbit hole."

That wasn't true, but he played along. "Where was the rabbit hole?"

"...in Underland."

He tried to think of something Iracebeth wouldn't know about. "Where was the hole in your world?"

"In the ground."

She was still a smart-alack at least. He thought for a minute. "How did you meet Iracebeth?" She didn't answer and Fred felt her confusion.

"Look," she said, quickly, "you seem like a nice enough guy, but I have to go. If Iracebeth finds me down here talking to you, I'll be in big trouble." She turned back towards the stairs.

"Lizzie, wait...she's going to kill me in the morning. You have to get me out!"

She looked nervously behind her. "I'm sorry, I have to go!"

Freddie watched her as she ran up the stairs and disappeared, right before the guard came back to his post.

* * *

Lizzie wandered aimlessly through the castle, trying not to think about what the man – Freddie, his name was Freddie- had asked her. The more she thought about where she was from and how she'd gotten here, the less Iracebeth's explanations had rung true. There were things about Underland she _knew_, fragmented memories that that made no sense whatsoever - like trying to put together a puzzle when someone has come along and jammed a bunch of pieces in the wrong places, smashing them into place whether they fit there or not. The more she tried to ignore it, the more it bothered her. He'd told her that he was a friend...and therein was the crux of the matter. If he remembered _her_, why didn't she remember_ him_? She stopped before she got back to her room. The door was open, just barely cracked, but she knew for a fact she'd shut it tightly when she'd left. Something inside her, something so strong it nearly took her breath away, told her to run. She backed up against the wall, glancing around the empty hall. There were gruff voices and men laughing in the stairway at the other end, coming closer. With no idea what she was doing or where she was going, she ran the way she had come, down the steps, out of the castle, and back down to the dungeon. She still carried the pitcher in her hand as she slowly descended the stairs where she knew the guard would be waiting.

"Halt!" The guard said, getting slowly to his feet. Lizzie noted he was pudgy, lazy, and mostly drunk.

"The queen sent me to give this to the prisoner," she lied.

Fred watched his wife as she came back down, smiling faintly...maybe all wasn't lost, yet. He searched her mind, knowing even before he did that Iracebeth didn't give her anything to give him, but he decided to play along for the guard's benefit.

"No! That water's been poisoned, I know it has!" he yelled. "Get her away from me!"

Lizzie looked over at him, confused, until she caught the subtle wink Freddie gave her. "I'm not leaving until you drink it!" She turned to the guard who had returned to his chair. "I'll need you to unlock the door."

The guard groaned and handed her the key, "Go on wit ya'...he's tied up, he wont hur' ye'."

She took it and the pitcher, and crossed over to stand in front of the door. She whispered quietly to the man inside. "You know someone who can help me, right? To remember?"

"Yes, I do," he assured her. "Just play along a little longer. You'll have to untie me quick, though, once you open the door."

She looked at him, hesitating. He hadn't felt her be so unsure of herself since she'd freed him from the jack-in-the-box in her own world. "You won't hurt me will you?"

He met her eyes. "I'd never hurt you."

The key turned in the lock and she swung the door open. He stepped back, looking over her shoulder at the guard who wasn't paying much attention to them. He turned around so that she could loosen his bindings. Finally, he pulled free of them and took the pitcher from her. He smiled slyly at her. "Ready?"

Something in his expression made her grin in return. "Ready."

Fred held the pitcher behind his back, then dropped to his knees, loudly feigning choking.

Lizzie turned to the guard. "I think you'd better check him out. The queen won't like it if he chokes to death."

The guard lumbered over into the cell and took Freddie by he shoulders, giving him a shake. Fred swung the pitcher up from behind him and brought it down on top of the guard's head, knocking him cold. He rolled him over, taking his sword and a short knife. He handed the knife to Lizzie. "Here, it's not much, but just in case. We're lucky it's still dark." He unclasped his cloak and was about to fasten it around Lizzie's neck, but she moved back, suspicious, so he handed it to her instead. "Here, put this on." She took it from him and threw it around her shoulders. He looked both ways before leaving the cell, then turned back to her. "Come on, let's go."

Together they climbed the stairs and crept around the side of the fortress. "We're just going to have to make a run for it," said Freddie. "Listen," he said, taking her by the shoulders, "once we start running – don't stop. If something happens to me, you run, and you keep running. Don't come back here. Understand?"

"You're scaring me."

He let go of her. "I'm sorry, Lizzie, but anywhere is a better place than here." They were now at a point where the door to Crims would be directly in front of them. "When I say 'Go', run straight ahead, okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

He gave one last look around, seeing no one close by. "Go!" They ran side by side, miraculously attracting no attention until they were almost to the edge of the forest. Then the notes of a horn sounded from behind them and they could hear the shouts as others were alerted to their presence. Lizzie faltered and looked back. Fred grabbed her hand and pulled her with him. "Don't stop! Just run!"

They were at an advantage once they were deeper in the woods, and Fred knew exactly where they were going. He stopped short of the door though, pulling Lizzie down beside him and motioning her to be quiet. Iracebeth must have anticipated him or else it was just dumb luck - there were four Outlandish huntsmen barring the way to the door.

"We're not going to be able to get to the door," he whispered to her.

"Door?"

"Never mind. Let me think a minute." He weighed his options. Going south and then through the mountains would be the safest route as far as staying out of reach of Iracebeth. It was late Fall, though, and the mountains would be cold at night unless they could find shelter, and there might be an early snowstorm that would make the way impassible. Fred was familiar with the land south of them, in the vicinity of their cabin, but he doubted that they would be able to travel that far by morning. In fact, they'd probably end up two nights in the mountains. The other path was to the north, around the Outland Mountains by the shore of the Crimson Sea. That would be the easiest route, but it would leave them with no shelter at all. If Iracebeth had any troops there, as well she might by the time they could walk there, they'd be out in the open and walking into a death trap. Frustrated with no good choices, he made the only one that gave them a fighting chance. "We'll have to go south, over the mountains. I'm sorry, Lizzie, it's going to be cold up there, but the only other way around is going by the shoreline of the Crimson Sea and we'd get caught for sure."

"Lead the way."

"We've got to be careful. Follow me." He backtracked until he could no longer see the Outlanders, knowing they'd have to hurry before the others tracking them caught up. As soon as they were safely past the huntsmen, Fred headed back to the east, until they were at the foothills of the mountains, then turned, following them to the south. It wouldn't do to cross here, the mountains were too steep. They'd need to stay on the Outland side until they reached the river. Fred and Lizzie journeyed on, neither talking for more than an hour.

"Do you think we've lost them?" Lizzie finally asked.

"I hope so," he answered, "but Remenhal's men are trackers. The sooner we can get into the mountains, the safer I'll feel. We've got about four hours of walking until we reach the river where we'll cross." He stopped. "Are you okay? No one hurt you there, did they?" He didn't see any obvious signs of trauma, but the dress she was wearing was long with long sleeves so it was hard to tell. His eyes flicked across her abdomen.

Lizzie didn't much care for the way his eyes roamed over her body in a look that seemed far to intimate for a nearly stranger. She folded her arms in front of her. "I'm fine," she told him.

Fred turned away quickly. "Let's go then."

* * *

Stayne bowed low in front of Iracebeth. "I'm sorry, my queen, the huntsmen have lost them."

"Damn!" she yelled. She drummed her fingers anxiously on the arm of her throne. "Get me that overgrown mongrel, Remenhal!"

"Yes, my queen." Ilosovic Stayne smiled triumphantly as he strode out of the throne room. He and Iracebeth had had their differences in the past – him trying to kill her had been a large one – but in the end, they somehow always came back to each other. Her because he was the only one who would do her bidding without questioning her, and him because, well, she was all he had unless he wanted to 'go it alone' in the Outlands, and Stayne wasn't a nature lover.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," sneered Remenhal under Iracebeth's glare, "but if your guards weren't so incompetent they'd never have escaped in the first place."

"Don't talk back to me!" she screamed. "You're supposed to be the best at what you do. A huntsman who can't track through the forest is about as good to me as a three legged horse." She leaned towards him from her throne. "And I use those for glue."

"Chasing whelps through the woods isn't what I'm here for!" he bellowed. "You promised me an army to command, I don't have time to scamper after your dreamer!"

Iracebeth's face turned red with fury. "Idiot! He'll have a vision of what I'm about to do before I even think about doing it - and the woman carries his child! Your men can either bring me their heads, or you can join your own army, and I'll find someone more competent to command it." She gestured to a raven perched near the high vaulted ceiling of the throne room. It swooped down to land on the arm of her chair, dropping a small leather bag into her lap. Iracebeth thrust her hand inside, pulling out a heart – still slowly beating. She looked at Remenhal. "Do not forget who is in charge here," she reminded him. She squeezed the heart firmly and the huge man gasped and turned pale.

"Y...y...yes, m...my Queen," he stuttered, vainly trying to catch his breath.

Iracebeth smiled charmingly, "I'm glad we understand each other." She returned the heart to the bag, handing it to the raven who returned to his lofty perch. "Now, is your army completed yet?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. The last of them were brought in yesterday evening."

"Very good. How many do we have in all?"

The man hesitated, murmuring a number too quietly to be heard.

"Speak up! I asked you a question. How many are there?"

"A few over three hundred."

"Three hundred?" the queen shot to her feet in a rage. "There were well over a thousand buried in those graves! How is it that you've only managed a paltry army of three hundred?"

"Begging your pardon, but most of the bodies were missing too many pieces."

"Then send your men to dig up the rest of the graves! They should all have been charmed after they died, so I'm sure they've been preserved nicely."

"It will be as you desire, Your Majesty."

"One last thing," said Iracebeth, "Make sure you've stationed our new soldiers at the places I've shown you on the map. If someone uses the doors, I want them taken out immediately."

"It's already been done. My men are on the way to the furthest ones as we speak, and they will be replaced with the new soldiers as they arrive."

"Very good. We'll find them, yet. Freddie can't stand to travel overland, so your best bet to catch him and the Uplander will be through the doors. Just kill them both when you find them. I would ask you to bring the woman back for the child, but if it's anything like it's father and uncle, it'll be nothing but trouble anyway. It's about time Underland was rid of the Hightopps once and for all."

* * *

Fred and Lizzie kept to their route, moving quickly through the forest. Lizzie might not remember all the hiking she'd done over the last few months with Fred, but her body did, and she had no trouble keeping up with him. They reached the river just before dawn, both exhausted, but by Fred's calculations safely out of reach of anyone who'd been following them.

It had turned considerably colder and the wind was beginning to howl through the trees. Freddie looked nervously up at the sky which was turning gray and overcast. Snow was coming, he could feel it in every fiber of his being, he just couldn't say when. He'd hoped they would be able to shelter in a cave not far from where they now were, but he was afraid they'd wake up snowed in. If they could get to the cave that was just west of their cabin, he would be able to get supplies. Lizzie was going to freeze to death the way she was dressed now even though she still had his cloak.

"Lizzie, I know we're both tired, but it's going to snow soon. If we shelter here, we might be stuck by morning. Further south there's another cavern and it's close enough to a cabin I can get us supplies at."

Lizzie looked up from the downed tree she was resting on. "How far?"

Freddie winced. "Another two and a half hours if we keep up our pace."

"Good grief!" she exclaimed. She began to wonder how she'd managed to get herself tangled up with this guy, though she supposed it was at least better than being stuck in Iracebeth's castle. "How come you're so sure it's going to snow?"

"I just am," he said. "Besides, look at the sky. Freak snowstorms come along all the time here."

She sighed. "Alright, let's go...before my legs remember how tired they are."

They crossed over to the east side of the river, putting themselves between it and the mountains. Fred slowed their pace just a bit, torn between worrying that Lizzie was going to overtire herself or that she was going to freeze to death. If she lost the child because of his choice to come this way, he'd never forgive himself. She trudged on without complaining.

Two hours later he found the familiar path that led up and through the mountains and down into the valley and the cabin on the other side. He turned them east and they began the hardest part of the journey. They made it to the cavern just as the first soft flakes of snow were beginning to fall. Lizzie was surprised to find a considerable stack of firewood just inside the entrance.

"It must be a popular stopping place," she mused, looking at the wood.

Fred just smiled sadly. He and Lizzie had piled the firewood there themselves along with a supply of lighting fluid, ration bars, water, and a large bedroll just in case they got stranded while exploring this winter. (There was only one bedroll because he hadn't planned on them sleeping separately.) He tossed Lizzie a ration bar and quickly made a fire at the entrance to the cave. The snow was still only flurries, but it was going to get harder, and he knew he needed to leave now if he wanted to get to the cabin and back up before it was too late.

"Hey," he said, "I'm going to go ahead and go get supplies. It'll take me about an hour to get down the other side, but I'll be as fast as I can."

She looked at him, worried. "What am I supposed to do if you don't come back?"

He looked at her oddly. "I'll be back. Just make sure the fire doesn't go out."

"I think I can handle that," she said with light sarcasm.

"Just don't forget to put another log on it before you go to sleep." He picked up his cloak where Lizzie had laid it and disappeared outside and into the snow.

* * *

Lizzie looked around, finding the cave oddly familiar, though she supposed once you'd seen one cave you'd seen them all. She tossed another log on the fire and lay the bedroll out several feet to the side of it. She crawled in between the layers, feeling overwhelmingly drowsy now that she'd eaten and was warm. Her swiss cheese memory worried her, especially the dark void she came up against whenever she tried to remember who Freddie was. One other thing bothered her as well...another tiny bit of information Iracebeth had told her when she'd woken up. She'd told her she was pregnant. Lizzie lay her hand against her abdomen. If she was, she certainly didn't notice anything different, and how in the world would the queen have known something like that in the first place? Not only that, she couldn't imagine who in the world the father would be...she hadn't slept with anyone since Charles, and that had been over a year ago. She decided that piece of knowledge would just be best kept to herself...at least for now.

* * *

Fred made his way quickly down the trail leading out of the mountains to where the cabin stood, but stopped as he neared it and took a different path, one that would lead to a ledge overlooking the land. Iracebeth surely knew where he lived, and he didn't feel like walking into a trap. He was glad he'd checked. No one seemed to be in the immediate vicinity of the home itself, but there were three people wandering around the area where the door stood. From his distance he couldn't tell if they were Outlandish or not, but if they were guarding the door, chances were they weren't there to say 'Hi.". He'd been hoping he and Lizzie would be able to make it through the door after nightfall, but now that would be too risky. Even though Iracebeth wouldn't know the location of the door Lizzie had recently found, it was close enough to the other that they wouldn't be able to get there without being seen. As it was, he was going to have climb in through the bedroom window to get into the cabin. He went back to the trail and followed it the rest of the way down, keeping to the tree-line until he was directly behind the cabin. Luckily the bedroom window was on the back side. He peered into it first, making sure no one was actually inside before using his knife to break the latch between the wood-framed panes and pop them open. He hoisted himself in and smacked his head on the dresser falling through. He closed the door of the room, just in case anyone happened to come in the front door and set to work filling two packs. He grabbed the clothes that Lizzie used for more rugged hiking, a pair of soft brown leather pants and a long sleeved shirt, sweater, boots, and a couple other things he thought she might need plus her heavy woolen cloak. He threw on a clean shirt and a sweater and then packed a change of clothes in his own. He dropped the packs out the window then grabbed a spare bedroll from the closet. It would make for more to carry, but he could just leave it in the cave. He climbed back out the window and was up the hill without anyone the wiser. He'd left just in time. As soon as he'd found the trail again, the snow which had changed to intermittent light showers as he had neared the cabin began to fall in earnest, quickly covering the path. He threw his hood up and continued on. He was nearly there when a wisp of purple smoke caught his eye.

"Chess? Is that you?"

The cat materialized in front of him. "You're quite popular today," drawled Chess. "Iracebeth is having a fit over you and Lizzie escaping. She's got guards posted at every door she can remember...which is nearly all of them."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"You won't be going to Marmoreal anytime soon, I can tell you that."

"What do you mean?"

The cat looped lazily in mid-air before answering. "The clans of Southern Outland have agreed to patrol the area between themselves and the Northern clans and to watch the mountains for any sign of troop movement, but they've asked for a representative from Marmoreal to accompany them. You weren't there, so Mirana volunteered you."

Freddie threw his hood off, frustrated. "What is that supposed to mean? I've got my own problems without trapezing about the Outlands waiting for Iracebeth to find me and chop my head off!"

"Yes...," he answered drolly, "I heard about that."

Fred shook his head. "Before I forget, you need to tell Mirana about the soldiers, the dead soldiers...I got a good look at them when I was there. Chess, they were from Iplam."

The cat looked uncharacteristically upset. "We know, Freddie." He had hoped not to have to talk about that subject again. "They weren't the only ones. Both graves from Horunvendush day were...disturbed, along with countless others. There's nothing you can do about it now. Mirana hopes that the early winter will deter any plans Iracebeth has until the spring, and give her time to reverse whatever spell is on them, but she wants to make sure they stay put until then." The cat started to fade.

"Wait, Chess!"

"Yes?"

"I need you to get Mirana to make something to fix Lizzie's memory and bring it back to me. Iracebeth's done something to her, and now she has no idea who I am."

The cat blinked his eyes and flicked his tail impatiently. "If it's only the memories of you she took, there's nothing Mirana can do for her. She's under an enchantment. You're on your own with that. I'll find you in the Outlands when you're settled. Illynyr is expecting you...both of you." Chess disappeared before Freddie could think of any more questions, leaving him alone in the snow.

Fred looked around him, every detail was quickly being covered in a blanket of white. It was so quiet, he could hear the large wet flakes hitting the ground and trees around him. How could it be so peaceful here when all the world was falling apart around him? He continued walking until he saw the bright glow coming from the entrance to the cave. Well, at least he had Lizzie with him - though what that might mean with her having no memory of him right now was anyone's guess (the possibility of her never regaining it never crossed his mind). He ducked into the cave to find her sound asleep. He set their packs aside, added another log to the fire, unrolled his bed, and lay down, but it was a long time before sleep found him.


	5. A New Journey

_"How I remember sleepless nights_  
_when we would read by candlelight,_  
_and on the windowpane outside_  
_a new world made of snow..._

_The silence of a winter's night_  
_brings memories I hold inside -_  
_remembering a blue moonlight_  
_upon the fallen snow._"  
_-Enya_

* * *

Fred's aching muscles protested as he dragged himself out of the bedroll early the next morning and built the fire back up. He ducked out of the cave. The snow had stopped, and he guessed there was probably close to a foot on the ground. Not bad – they were lucky it was early in the year, in the middle of winter there would be six feet or more up here. It was wet snow, too, not the dry type that blew into great drifts where you might be on solid footing one moment and the next step find yourself up to your waist. He thought about what Chess had said the night before. Southern Outland? He'd never been to any of the actual villages there. Most were northwest of the door that ran between there and Iplam – another six hour walk to the south from where they were right now. He'd never gone out of his way to visit – meeting new people wasn't really his forte.

He wondered what to do about his and Lizzie's now complicated relationship. He still wore his wedding band and promise ring, and absently he felt for the chain around his neck, hidden under his shirt, where Lizzie's were. He suspected he'd need to explain things to whoever was in charge, though most people would probably think that he was simply a widower, especially if he wore Lizzie's rings where people could see them. That was a traditional sign of mourning for one's spouse.

He looked back at her, still sleeping peacefully. All he wanted was to go and lie down beside her, wrap her in his arms, and breathe in the scent of her hair as she slept. How many countless mornings had he awakened, still amazed to find her there with him_?_ Of all she could have chosen, she'd chosen _him_, and he was determined to make it worth her while. Now, if he was nothing but a stranger to her, what would there be to keep her from leaving? He supposed if she wanted to leave, he'd have to tell her the truth, but he'd rather just play along until the enchantment wore off and she remembered him again. He doubted he'd be able to stand the awkwardness between them if she found out she was married to someone she'd (in her mind) just met. And then, there was the other thing...the big thing. He could sense the child now, in fact he should have been able to all along, but until Iracebeth told him about it, the idea of Lizzie being pregnant had never even crossed his mind. He'd never known of any male with that damned 'gift' he'd been born with to ever be able to father a child. He supposed that myth would need to be changed from 'impossible' to 'improbable'. Iracebeth had taken a gamble on it and won, knowing the child would also have his abilities, and the thought of her raising any child, much less his own, gave him chills. He wondered how far along Lizzie was, and wished more than anything he could talk to her about their child – see what she was feeling and thinking. His mother used to tell him and Tarrant that she'd had the oddest dreams when she was pregnant with them, especially Freddie.

Lizzie stirred and opened her eyes, then groaned and rolled over the other way. Fred smiled - she wasn't generally a morning person.

"Hey sleepy-head," he said. "You might as well get up, it's not going to get any easier."

She yawned and sat up, pulling her hair back from her face, and looked over at him. "You're still here."

What, she thought he'd just up and run off on her in the middle of the night? "Yeah, I decided not to sleep in the snow. What are you talking about? I'm not going to leave you." He kept his tone light for her sake, though his words held a much deeper meaning than she realized. He picked up her pack and tossed it to her then threw his own over his shoulder. "The clothes in there will be warmer for you. I'm going to check out the snow while you get dressed."

Lizzie looked at the pack and then up at him. He'd brought clothes for her? That was odd, though she supposed the dress she had on was pretty impractical out here, especially in the snow. "Um...thanks."

He nodded and ducked out of the cave. She waited until he'd gone away, then opened up the pack and pulled out the clothes. They looked like they'd fit. She got up and pulled the dress off over her head, glad she was near the fire for the warmth. She pulled on the pants and then threw the shirt and the sweater over her head. She was more than a little baffled about how well everything fit. The boots even fit perfectly. She fastened the heavy navy blue cloak around her shoulders and walked out of the cave to find Freddie who was waiting just outside.

He saw her and smiled. "You look warmer now."

"Yeah, thanks." She eyed him suspiciously. "How'd you know what would fit me?"

Fred just shrugged. "Lucky guess, I suppose. We have a change of plans, though. Do you remember Chess?"

"I remember Chess. What about him?"

"He paid me a visit while I was on my way back up yesterday. Apparently Mirana is sending us to the Southern Outlands. That means we've got more walking to do, and I've never actually been there. Illynyr, the leader of the southern clans is supposed to be waiting on us."

"What do you mean? Why am I supposed to go? Isn't Mirana the one who can fix my memory problem?"

"I mentioned that to him, but apparently you're under some sort of an enchantment. There's nothing anyone can do, it just has to wear off. That or we could try asking Iracebeth nicely if she'd mind helping you, but for some reason I don't think she'd be too keen on it. Besides, we couldn't get to Marmoreal right now unless we went cross country. Iracebeth has men stationed in the vicinity of all the doors looking for us."

"That's another thing. What's so special about you that she's going to all this trouble?"

"Me? 'Racie and I don't see eye to eye on things. You might say we have a conflict of interest."

"Which is?"

"I'd like to live, and she'd like to chop off my head."

She grinned, despite herself. "Do you always bring out the best in people?"

Fred just laughed. "Grab your pack. It'll be a lot warmer once we get out of the mountains."

Lizzie stuffed her other clothes into the pack and slung it over her shoulder, then rolled up the bed and set it by the stack of wood as Freddie had done with his. "What about the other stuff?" she called to him.

"Just leave it. I'm sure I'll be back this way again." At least he hoped he would.

She came out and they started back down the path they'd come up the day before. Freddie led the way carefully through the now winter wonderland. Their boots crunched loudly through the snow.

"That's one of my favorite sounds," said Lizzie.

He stopped. "What is?"

She scooped up a handful of snow, packing it tightly into a ball and held it up where he could hear the odd muted crunching noise it made. "That sound. I always thought it was such a strange sound for water to make."

He looked at her, amused. "Huh, I didn't know that." It wasn't everyday Lizzie told him something about herself that he didn't know, however small and trivial it might be.

About an hour later, the land finally leveled out and they found themselves once again between the stream and the foothills.

"I think we need to cross the stream," said Fred. "I've never been where we're going, so we'd probably be better off traveling south closer to where I know the villages are otherwise we might end up wandering around all winter."

They found a place where the wind had blown down a huge tree, making a natural bridge, and crossed over to the other side. It wasn't long before the forest thinned and they found themselves approaching a plains region. Lizzie turned and looked behind them. The snow covered mountains rose up from beyond the trees. It reminded her of the pictures she'd seen of Mount St. Helens before it erupted. Suddenly, Fred stopped and moved to stand in front of her. "Stay behind me," he said, "we have visitors." He drew his sword.

Lizzie scanned the plain in front of them and saw four horses, too far away to make much out, approaching them swiftly. "Who are they?"

He didn't speak, just watched. Finally he sheathed his sword. The horses wore the orange of Southern Outland. "I think it's the welcoming committee. They're from the south."

The riders stopped in front of Fred and Lizzie. The young man in front rode a white steed which he swung down from and came to meet them. It was Illynyr. He gripped Freddie's arm in greeting. "Well met, Freddie. I was worried we would miss you and you'd end up wandering too far south." He nodded courteously to Lizzie. "You must be Lizzie. I'm Illynyr of Southern Outland." He turned back to Fred. "I'm sorry, I heard you were chosen without having a vote, but the clan is grateful for your service. I was really just hoping for another warm body to help on patrols, but having someone with the gift is more valuable than ten others."

"I'd rather that not become the talk of the clan, if I can help it," said Fred. "It would be nice to be known for who I am, not what I was born as."

"Understood completely," said Illynyr, "though I'm sure you know how clan women gossip. Speaking of which," he drew Fred aside from the others, "the cat told me about your wife. I'm not sure what to say – I'm terribly sorry. I understand she doesn't know that you are married."

"No, she doesn't. Hopefully the enchantment will run it's course soon. I'm not sure how she would react to that knowledge right now."

"A difficult situation, to say the least. She is with child also?"

"Yes. That's the reason Iracebeth took her in the first place."

"There is an older woman, Dyvych, who also has the gift, though not strong. She'll be glad to help Lizzie if she needs it. I've explained the situation to her. Would you and Lizzie object to staying together while you're here? We only have one dwelling available."

"I'm sure she and I can work something out."

They had brought a spare horse for Fred and Lizzie. As Fred helped her up behind him, he couldn't help but think of the beginning of another journey the two of them had taken. One that led to their lives changing forever. He hoped this one would end at least as well as the other.

_

* * *

A/N: I hope I've cleared up any obscurity about why Racie took Lizzie. She couldn't care less about her and wasn't really after her for revenge, although "waste not, want not" ya' know since Fred was at her fortress anyway. _

_So...to pass on this 'gift' that Fred has, usually it's the mother who had it. A woman who has it has no problem bearing children (Fred had 2 siblings), but it's thought that males with the gift can't have children so that's why Fred didn't realize Lizzie was pregnant. All children born to a parent with the gift will also have it, though there are varying degrees of abilities. So Racie wanted the child so that she could raise it up as her ally – just like Mirana's father had used Fred to know what others were thinking. I had all this written in dialogue in the first draft of chapter 4, but it got scrapped when I rewrote it so I've tried to clarify it in this chapter._


	6. Southern Outland

A/N: You'll note that a lot of the names and customs of the Southern Outlandish are of Welsh influence. The clans of Witzend and Iplam are originally of Scottish or Gaelic descent.

The name of the woman, Dyvych, would be pronounced "Duv (as in dove) - ick"

And forgive my sparse knowledge of weaving looms beforehand. The more research I did, the more types there seemed to be, but there was a demo of a floor loom on YouTube that I went by.

* * *

"_Memories, all we share between us,  
everything we were - all that we remain.  
But memories somehow came between us,  
breaking up two minds that were one and the same."_

_-The Alan Parsons Project_

* * *

The trip to the main village of the clan was only about an hour and a half away by horseback. Fred was just glad they hadn't had to walk. He'd done plenty of hiking with Lizzie, but they had always started out close to where they wanted to be by door. Walking overland he usually found to be dreadfully tedious...and if the doors were too far apart, he and Lizzie had been known to get 'sidetracked' and never actually make it to where they were planning on going. He smiled wistfully, remembering. He concentrated on the feeling of her arms wrapped tightly around him as they rode and of having her close to him again, not knowing how long it would be before the spell broke and she would remember their life together.

They could see the smoke rising from chimneys in the distance as they neared the village. When they arrived, a several people came out and gathered in what seemed to be the town square and waited as Illynyr rode up to them, and stopped. He, as well as Lizzie, Fred, and the other riders, dismounted.

Fred studied the people around him. Most had never met anyone from across the mountains. A few eyed him suspiciously - there wasn't exactly bad blood between the Outlandish and Underlandians, but centuries of only distant associations and a mountain chain between them had separated them in more ways than just geography. He was turning back to Illynyr when he caught the eyes of one of the older women. She was watching him and smiled, and he knew this must be the woman the clansman had told him about.

"Freddie, Lizzie," said Illynyr, "If you would follow me, I'll show you where you'll be staying." They followed him to the outskirts of the village where he stopped in front of a modest cabin.

Lizzie looked at it nervously. Illynyr said something to Freddie too quietly for to hear, and she felt herself flush as the man walked away, leaving them all alone. Freddie opened the door and walked in. A second later he opened the door back up and looked at her.

"You can either take the bedroom and I'll sleep in the main room, or you can stand here and stare at the door and sleep outside."

She sighed. "Alright, I'm coming." She went in and found herself in a small living room with a fireplace directly across from the door, and another door to her right which led into a small bedroom. To the left there was a small kitchen with a wood burning stove, a table and two chairs, and another door beyond it that led to a small washroom. There was a bedroll beside the fireplace which Freddie sat his pack beside. Lizzie noted that it was really very nice, if not a bit sparse. If it had something on the walls or curtains or something, it would be quite homey. A shred of memory of another cabin, similar to this one floated through her head, but when she tried to remember any details about it, it simply faded into darkness.

"Illynyr says the patrols leave early in the morning and someone will come by to get me when they go out." He ran his hand through his hair nervously. "They'll be meeting for supper soon. It's usually a community thing."

"Oh...okay." He looked intensely uncomfortable about something. "What's wrong?"

He frowned, of course Lizzie had no memory of him, so things he took for granted that she understood were now lost on her. "I'm not very good at meeting new people," he said. "That and it's been a long time since I've been a part of a clan." He glanced outside. "We'd better go, I'm not sure where we're supposed to be. Don't worry – here I'm just as lost as you are."

She smirked at him. "That's not very comforting."

* * *

The meals were in a communal sort of hall with long wooden benches and tables. It reminded Lizzie of the camp she sometimes went to when she was a kid - one of the few respites from her overbearing mother. She looked around shyly at the crowded room. There were probably fifty or sixty people there, sitting in small groups. The noise of people talking that had been a dull roar when she and Freddie walked in, became progressively quieter as others took notice of them. There was a line moving swiftly up to the front and Freddie motioned to her that they should follow the others. When they reached the front, a young woman – Lizzie thought she was probably in her early twenties- was serving each person a bowl of something that smelled like chili. They took their food and drink and looked for a place to sit. A woman who looked to be about fifty or so came up to Lizzie, putting her hand gently on her arm.

"You must be Lizzie," she said, smiling. "I'm Dyvych. Would you mind if I stole you away from Freddie for a while?"

There was something special about the older lady, thought Lizzie. She was one of those people who once you met her, you knew you'd found a 'kindred spirit'. "I'm sure he'll survive," Lizzie said, smiling. She followed Dyvych over to a table where a group of half a dozen other women were sitting. They greeted her as she took a seat.

"You'll have to excuse all the stares and whispers," she said. "We don't get visitors often, and of course everyone's worried about the first patrol tomorrow."

"That's okay," answered Lizzie, "I understand."

Another woman asked if she'd really escaped from Iracebeth's castle, so Lizzie found herself recounting the tale of what had happened to her and Freddie over the last two days. Someone else asked if she'd known him before, at Marmoreal.

"I don't really know," she told the women. "Iracebeth did something to my memory when I was there. A lot of things are kind of fuzzy or just missing. I don't remember Freddie at all."

A woman who looked to be maybe in her seventies patted her hand. "Tha's a'right, deary," she said, "can't half o'us remember what w' had fer breakfast th'other day."

"That's just because you're old, Thera," another lady said.

"Yer not t'be talkin', Gwenyth, yer only a fortnigh' younger 'an me!"

"I use m'mind more 'an you, though, so's it keeps it fresh," Gwenyth snickered.

Lizzie grinned. Listening to them banter back and forth reminded her of her grandparents who, though anyone could see they loved each other dearly, seemed to always be teasing one another about something. For a split second, a twinge of sorrow pierced through her heart – a feeling of having lost something precious, but she could not remember what it was.

* * *

Fred watched as Lizzie followed Dyvych over to where another group of women were sitting, and then saw Illynyr motioning him over to another table – the 'guy table' he thought wryly. His mind went back to the days before his family had moved to Marmoreal, when they had lived in the village of northern Witzend. It was heartbreakingly similar here and he could almost see the ghost of himself as a little boy, running through the shadows. He made his way to the table and sat down.

A large, portly man sitting beside him eyed him critically. "Ya' look a little scrawny t' be runnin' p'trols. Y'd best eat up an' put some meat on yer bones'!"

"Gareth, however did ya' marry such a beautiful woman with those manners?" asked Illynyr.

The big man grunted. "It takes more 'an manners t' keep a woman happy, Illynyr. Mebe tha's why ye ain't got one, yet."

Freddie was surprised that someone would address the clan leader, however young he was, that way, but Illynyr just laughed.

"I just haven't found one who can keep up with me, yet." He turned to Fred, changing the subject. "You've been to Iracebeth's fortress, what's the best way to get close enough to take a good look?"

Fred went over the lay of the land with them, using various utensils and cups to represent different locations. He pointed out where Iracebeth would most likely have soldiers stationed and the way he had gone previously to sneak up to the castle.

"If we have enough men to station behind us, we shouldn't have to worry about being ambushed," he said. "We'll need to keep to the rear. There are no entrances there, so it should be left fairly well unguarded." He didn't tell them about the magic door, but he pointed out where he had seen the soldiers guarding the way to it. They would also need to leave their horses quite a ways back from the clearing. "I'm not really familiar with the Outlandish clans," he told them. "Who is Remenhal? The last I knew the northern clans were peaceful farmers like the south."

The men all exchanged dour looks. Finally Illynyr spoke. "He was a leader of one of the smaller clans of the north until there was a blight four years ago. It was a rare occurrence, but it wiped out nearly all of the crops in both the north and the south that year. Times were hard, but we managed to scrape by, every neighbor helping his own neighbor. From what we can gather, Remenhal convinced the northern clans that instead of each helping his own, they should combine all the resources they had together as one and redistribute them to those in need. He insisted that, since his clan was centrally located, they should be the ones to collect and store the food. The other clans brought all that they had to Remenhal's village. Unfortunately, when the storehouses were full, he set guards around it and refused to distribute any of the goods unless his price was met. His prices were...very high." A few of the men looked away or down at the table, and Fred hardly needed to read their minds to imagine what those prices might be. "Many men starved for their daughters to keep their honor," the clansman said quietly.

"Surely some deserted?" asked Fred. He couldn't imagine staying in a place with a tyrant like that. One would be better off taking their chances alone, or coming south.

"Aye," said another man, "a few did get out, but not many. That devil murdered the other clan leaders, and built an army of his huntsman and posted them along the roads leading from the villages. Anyone thought t' be leaving was killed – young an' old."

"I can see why he threw in with Iracebeth," muttered Fred.

The others murmured their assent. The meal now over, they began to get up and leave the hall.

"We'll see you tomorrow early, Freddie," said Illynyr as he got up from the table.

Fred looked around for Lizzie. She caught his eyes from across the room and smiled, and walked over to him.

"Making friends?" he asked.

"Dyvych is really nice. The older ladies remind me of my grandma."

They walked back together slowly to their cabin. It wasn't nearly as cool here as it had been up in the mountains. The evening was warm, but hints of winter filled the wind as it blew through the trees, rustling the leaves that had already begun to fall in earnest. Fred gazed at Lizzie out of the corner of his eye. The breeze blew through her long hair, and it took all the self-control he could muster not to reach out and run his hands through it. He sighed – how he missed her. He missed the feel of her in his arms, missed the constantly running conversation of her voice in his mind, missed how she teased him. He opened the door of the cabin and lit the lamp just inside the door. Someone had been there – there were several sets of clothes left on top of the bedroll for him.

Lizzie went into the bedroom and closed the door and found there was a stack of clothes left for her also on top of the small dresser.

"Hey," Freddie called to her from the other room. "You're not going to bed yet are you?"

She opened the door back up. "I don't think there's much else to do. Why?"

He had his pack on the table, searching around inside for something. "Come here." He pulled out a small box and tossed it on the table.

She went over and picked it up. It was a ragged deck of Bicycle playing cards. "Where in the world did you get these?"

"Hmm? Wal-mart, I think." He looked over at her busily trying to decipher how someone from Underland would go to the store and get playing cards. "What?" he teased. "You think you're special and have the market cornered on your realm? There's a McDonald's at the top of the rabbit hole, too – just so ya' know."

"How do you know so much about my world?"

"That's too long a story for tonight," he said. "Maybe another day." He took the cards from her and sat down. "What'd'ya wanna play?"

"Umm...I don't know...Gin?"

He grinned at her. "You cheat at gin."

"What are you talking about? I never cheat!"

"Oh, you cheat alright. You just don't _remember_ that you do."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Fine," he said tossing her the cards. "You deal. I can beat you anyway."

"Right..." She shuffled the cards and dealt them out.

They played until she could hardly keep her eyes open, talking about this and that. She couldn't remember when she'd known anyone who was as easy to talk to as he was – it was almost as though she'd known him her whole life...

* * *

Fred's watch woke him before dawn - he'd found it in the pack while looking for the cards the night before. As accustomed as he was to the Underlandian life of oil lamps and no electricity, there were times when the small trinkets he'd brought back from his trips Above were indubitably comforting. He pushed the small button on the watch, basking the dark cabin in an eerie green light for a moment before lighting the lamp and getting dressed. He wished he had the flashlight as well, but that had been in the pack he'd carried when he'd gone to find Lizzie. He'd lost his claymore, too, which was a shame- he'd had it since he was too young to even lift it. He buckled the short sword he'd stolen from the guard at the fortress around him.

There was a soft knock on the door and Fred threw his cloak on before he opened it.

"Freddie, I'm Dargo. Illynyr said you were helpin' with the patrol today."

"I'm ready. Hold on just a minute, though." Whether it was just habit or a subconscious need to have her know where he was he couldn't have said, but he went to the bedroom door and knocked softly.

The knock on the front door had woken Lizzie. From inside the small bedroom, she heard Freddie's voice and another speaking in the main room. It was still dark outside. Someone knocked softly on the door of the bedroom.

"Yes?" she asked, sleepily.

"Lizzie, I'm going. I'm not sure when I'll be back," he said. "I...I just wanted you to know."

"Oh...okay. Be careful."

"I will. Go back to sleep." It struck him that their conversation was strangely similar to the one they'd had before he'd gone to spy on Iracebeth in the first place.

Fred closed the door quietly behind him and followed Dargo to the town square where the others waited for them in the chill of the pre-dawn morn.

* * *

Lizzie rolled over, and fell back asleep and into a dream. In the dream, she was walking through a field of wildflowers and prairie grasses. There was a hill in front of her, and when she had climbed to the top she saw below her a valley on the outskirts of a forest. At the bottom of the valley was the most extraordinary building she'd ever seen. It's walls were fashioned of enormous crystals, growing together and rising to a point, like a huge turret on a castle. It caught the rays of the sun and glittered like a many faceted jewel, reflecting the sky of pink, blue, and purple. She started down the slope towards it, expecting it to be huge yet – as dreams often do- it shifted and changed as she approached it until it wasn't much larger than a small cabin - a sunlit cabin in the lea of the Outland Mountains, she thought. There was no door, but a triangular shaped hole where the crystals had not grown together sat at the base of the side facing the forest. Lizzie bent down and peered in.

Inside was a room, perhaps ten feet long, but no more than five or six feet wide. Inside the room was a boy. Lizzie crawled in and found there was room enough to stand, but her attention was caught by the child, and she moved closer and knelt beside him. He seemed to be around five or six years old, playing with what she assumed must be some sort of toys. Each was made of a different colored crystal, some with many points like stars, some with less, large enough to fill the palm of her hand. The shapes reminded her of the jacks she had when she was little. He raised his head of red curls and smiled at her, and as she smiled back, she knew without a doubt that she was dreaming. She looked around, wondering if she would remember any of it when she awoke. Everything seemed twice as vivid as in real life and the entire crystal palace seemed to resonate around them.

The boy played with the objects in front of him, and occasionally they would begin to glow, though the rhyme and reason of the game was lost on her. Neither of them spoke, but sat together in a comfortable silence for what was the timeless length of the world of dreams. Finally his eyes - eyes as blue and deep as the autumn sky - met hers, and the soft voice of a child spoke in her mind.

_[It's time for you to wake up.]_

"Will I see you again?" she asked him, but already the walls around her were fading, and the dream was ending. She tried to hold onto the memory of the boy even as she felt the real world take it's place around her, but as she opened her eyes, the dream was gone, replaced only by a feeling of peace and a fierce protectiveness for the child growing inside her.

She rose and dressed, then stepped outside to find the day was warm. She closed the door behind her and made her way into the heart of the village. Everyone seemed to be out and about. Several of the men were hauling hand carts filled with what looked like sheaves of some sort of grain.

From a doorway, Dyvych called out to her. She motioned her over and Lizzie left the trail that wound through the village and walked across the grass to where she stood. The older lady gave her a friendly hug. "You're looking well this morning!" She glanced at the dress Lizzie was wearing, it had been one that she'd found left for her in the bedroom the day before. "I'm so glad th' dress fits you. 'Twas m' daughter's, but after two children, it's a bit snug for her." She laughed and Lizzie smiled brightly at her.

"It fits perfectly, thank you."

Dyvych took her by the arm and led her through the door into her home. "Now, dear, you must sit and have some breakfast."

"That's okay," said Lizzie, "don't go to any trouble for me."

"Trouble? The trouble is that I still seem t' be cooking for my entire family, though the children have been grown nigh twenty years now and m' husband's been passed ten years this spring!" She sat a plate with slices of fresh bread and some sort of jam that Lizzie didn't recognize in front of her. "Now, eat up, dearie."

Lizzie devoured the bread and jam as she listened to the woman talk about her children (she'd had five) and her grandchildren (she had two – so far.).

"You are with child, are you not, dear?"

Lizzie looked at her, amazed. She wasn't showing yet, how would she have known? "Yes, I am...how did you know?"

Dyvych only smiled. "There are some things that I can tell more than others. Whether it is because I've helped to birth so many or because I've been touched, I cannot say, but I can sense your child very strongly." Her eyes met Lizzie's. "It has the gift."

Lizzie's hand unconsciously moved to rest against her abdomen. "What do you mean?" she asked. Hadn't she heard Illynyr say something to Freddie about him having a gift? That was one of those dark parts in her mind, filled with fuzzy memories that never became clear enough for her to make heads or tails of them.

"Some call it the gift, some call it 'touched'." She frowned. "Some just call us crazy. There aren't many who have it, and most who do are only able to sense a few things, certain strong emotions. The legends go that when Underland was young, there were people who saw visions and who could read people's minds, but it is very rare now for anyone to be born with strong abilities. It is both a blessing and a curse, though," she continued, "I'm sure I would have many more grandchildren playing around my feet if I hadn't been blessed with four sons and only one daughter." Dyvych rose from the table and motioned for Lizzie to follow her. "I'm sorry, dear. It's nice to have someone to talk to – I don't mean to rattle on and on. Come, I want to show you something."

She led Lizzie into another room, much larger than the kitchen. In fact, it looked as though several walls had been taken down to make the room even bigger. Against every wall, jutting far out into the room, were four immense wooden looms such as Lizzie had never seen before. Each was filled with hundreds of strands of yarn.

"Dyvych, these are amazing! It must take you forever to work on."

The woman chuckled. "Oh, it's not too bad. It's the setting it up that takes the longest. Me an' my fingers are not as nimble as they used to be when I was younger. Here, here, don't look so nervous – they won't break. Look at the rolls underneath and you'll see what the fabric looks like. The warp isn't very interesting."

"The warp?"

"The threads you see strung up like giant cobwebs. Here...what do you think of this one?" she knelt down beside one and patted the fabric which had been made on one. It came under the front and was fastened onto a large roller, holding it in place.

Lizzie knelt down to look. Dyvych was right. The threads on the top of the loom had no discernible pattern, but the fabric that had already been woven was an intricate design of brilliant red and yellow flowers and green leaves and vines.

"It's gorgeous! You're right, you'd never know what it looked like by the yarn on top." She went over to the others and peeked underneath at the fabric. All were different, but one she loved right away. The warp was a dark blue and the fabric was a series of small, lighter blue, interlocking circles on the dark background, each with a small, light blue rosette inside of them and at each of the four corners where the rings interlocked with each other. Though not as intricate as the first, it was beautiful in it's simplicity. Something about the pattern, with the interlocking rings, brought tears to Lizzie's eyes, but she wasn't able to say why.

"This is one of my favorites as well," said Dyvych gently.

Lizzie wiped at her tears, feeling foolish. "It reminds me of something, but I can't remember what." She shook her head, frustrated. "I don't understand why some of my memories are gone and there's nothing but darkness in their place, and why some are still there, but when I try to catch them, they slip away."

Dyvych put her arm around Lizzie's shoulders. "I don't know anything about the dark magic that did this to you, but I do know that as hard as it is for you not to remember, it is the same for them you have forgotten." She gave her a gentle squeeze. "Now, since you've found one that's captured your fancy, have a seat and you can try it out." She stood up and patted the long wooden bench which was attached to the front of the loom.

"What? Me? I don't think so, I'd never make a weaver with my clumsy hands."

"In life, we're all weavers, whether we want to be or not. Our choices determine what the pattern looks like in the end." The woman smiled wryly at her. "Fortunately, with yarn it is easier to pluck out the mistakes. Come, take a seat."

Lizzie sat down on the bench facing the loom and looked nervously at all the strings.

"Don't worry, it's not as difficult as it looks. Here, put your foot on the first pedal to your right and push it down. Like that...it's not going to break. Now," she handed Lizzie the shuttle (the only piece she actually knew the name of), "slide that through and push the pedal down again. Good. Now take the bar and pull it back against you and then push the next pedal down." She went through all the steps one by one. "There now – see what you've done!"

Lizzie squinted at the fabric she'd just made. It was less than an eighth of an inch long. "How long have you been working on this?" There had to be at least a couple of yards on the roll below the loom.

"Oh, I don't know. A couple of months, I think. It's relaxing though, and it gives me something to do," she said. "Speaking of something to do, our family has the midday meal today. We could always use extra hands if you'd like to help."

Lizzie smiled. "That sounds infinitely easier than weaving."

* * *

The men crossed over from the plains into the northern forest just as dawn was breaking. Fred was worried they might meet companies of soldiers before they'd even gotten close to the fortress, but they met no one on the way. There were eight of them who had volunteered to go, Fred making nine. Two stayed behind just inside the trees where they had left their horses, and two more were about a quarter mile behind them, standing guard. Freddie led the other four to the ledge overlooking the courtyard. Iracebeth had been busy. Instead of the soldiers in the courtyard, a massive stone structure now stood – a great hall with huge double doors at the end.

"This isn't like it was," said Fred. "That building wasn't there before."

"What is it?" asked Illynyr.

"It has to be some sort of barracks," he answered. "It's the only place they'd be able to fit the entire army." The thought of all the walking dead, crammed together like sardines in that stone sepulcher crossed his mind before he could think of something else.

"We need to know. We don't want to get caught watching an empty building while the army is marching behind us."

"I don see no windows," said one of the men.

"We could just wait," said another.

"An' what if they dont come out fer a month?" asked Gareth. "We could b' waitin' fer a while."

Fred studied the building. "Does anyone have any lighting fluid?"

Gareth took his pack from his shoulder and opened it up, looking around inside. He pulled out a small vial of clear liquid, handing it to Freddie. "Wha' d'ya have in mind?"

"Probably something that won't work. Everyone else stay here." He crept to the tree-line just beyond the building. He saw no one and quickly ran up to the double doors and emptied the vial of lightening fluid on them. He didn't wait to see what would happen, but turned straight around and ran back to the cover of the trees. The doors were wooden, the only flammable part of the structure. He looked back and smiled as he saw the flames leaping off the wood, growing in intensity. Several minutes later, someone spotted the smoke and a company of huntsmen ran over, beating at the door with their cloaks until some bright person called for the others to help carry a trough of water over and the flames were extinguished – the door looking quite the worse for wear. Through the gaping hole made by the fire, Fred could see the faces of the dead soldiers – packed together as he'd imagined. He turned and went back to the others. Having completed their purpose of locating the army, they started back for home.

* * *

It was twilight by the time Fred reached the cabin. They had agreed to meet in three days and go again. They debated going every other day, but the chances of them being spotted only increased each time they left, so the longer duration was finally agreed upon. He turned the knob and opened it to find Lizzie playing Solitaire at the table, waiting for him. She looked up as he entered.

"Hey. I saved you some supper if you're hungry."

He took off his cloak and sword an sat down at the table. "Thanks, I'm starving. You didn't have to wait for me."

She shrugged. "There wasn't much else to do."

"I'm glad you did," he said. He smiled at her, confused. She seemed nervous. "What's wrong?"

She hopped up from the table and began to pace about, shifting things here and there – a habit of hers Fred recognized as trying to figure out how to say something.

"Quit wandering around and talk to me."

She sat back down and gave him an odd discerning look. "Did you know I was pregnant?"

He nearly choked on the drink he'd just taken. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, you don't remember me, I thought you might think it was odd."

"Hmm...I suppose," she said grudgingly. "There's a reason I asked, though."

"What's that?"

She fiddled with the cards she was absently picking up. "Dyvych says she can sense it. She says it has this 'gift'. Is that what you have?"

He hesitated, wondering where she was going with this. "...Yes..."

"So, can you sense it like she can?"

He grinned and held out his hands across the table. "Let me see...take my hands." He couldn't very well squander an opportunity. She put her hands in his and he closed his eyes.

"Funny, she didn't need to touch me to sense it."

"Hush, I'm concentrating." He finally let her hands slip from his and opened his eyes. "Yes, I can. So...um, how are you feeling?"

She shrugged. "Okay, I think. I haven't really noticed anything different." She yawned and rubbed her eyes. "I've got to go to bed," she said as she stood. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Oh, okay. Good night." She was already halfway to the bedroom. "Thanks for supper," he called after her.

"You're welcome," she called back as she closed the door behind her.

Fred sat for a long time, just thinking. He was never going to get used to this. He and Lizzie had never been strangers – not since she was five years old. Even before they came to Underland the first time they were closer than they were now.

He thought about everything she (and thus himself) had lost, from the time she was a child until the present. There were moments he'd taken for granted - when she'd been a child and he'd been her crazy imaginary friend. He had been the only one she had turned to - her protector, her advocate. Their relationship had always been deeper than the pranks they'd pulled on people.

His mind shifted to more recent days. He remembered after she set him free, the last week she was still his charge, when he'd felt a strange fire burning inside of him that he couldn't quite understand at first...not until that moment in her room, after she'd been to that crazy doctor, and that freakish nurse had gone out to get those damned pills. She'd scared him then, when she wouldn't answer or look at him, and he had realized that he just might lose her forever. That was the moment that he'd realized that he loved her – he would have to let her go- but he knew that Lizzie would haunt him forever. He hadn't been able to help himself when it was time for him to leave - all he'd wanted was to feel her lips on his – just once.

And now – now it was so incredibly hard to go back to the way it was before they were together. His mind, body, and soul ached for her. He supposed he should feel lucky - if she hadn't been pregnant, Iracebeth would have just killed her straight away. He reached out and touched her mind. She was already asleep.

_[I love you, Lizzie...]_

He sighed, willing her to hear him...somehow...


	7. Love is Patient

_A/N: Thanks so much to __Lady Irish Rose and Francesca-Howard for the kind reviews!_

_Check out my profile link to Visual Guide to 'Memories of You'" on my LJ page. Pics of what I imagine things to look like, such as Fred and Lizzie's cabin, Grampas Bluffs, and the village. Plus, the instruments mentioned in this chapter are traditional to Welsh culture. There are pics of those there as well.  
_

* * *

"_If you could hold me now,  
I wonder what you'd feel.  
Would it all come back to you?  
What would memories reveal?_

_And you will never know  
until you're standing in my shoes -  
just how much you can love someone  
and how much you can lose.  
And if I could make you turn around,  
to see how we were then -  
just one look into my eyes  
you'd fall in love again..."_

_-Tara Maclean_

* * *

"What did they find?" Iracebeth's eyes were cold with fury. No sooner had they completed the enclosure to keep her new army in than some lunatic had nearly burnt the thing down. She leaned forward towards Stayne, awaiting his answer.

"You won't like it, my queen." He wondered yet again why he always had to be the one to bear bad news. At least he was fairly certain she wouldn't chop his head off - not today, anyway.

"I don't care if I'll like it or not!" she shouted. "What did you find?"

Stayne climbed the stairs to where Iracebeth sat and handed her a small, empty vial. She took it and sniffed it gently.

"Lighting fluid."

"Yes, your majesty."

"Do you know what this means?" She looked up at him expectantly, but he didn't answer. "Someone tried to kill my army! Someone's been here, trying to set fire to them with lighting fluid!" She threw the small bottle across the room where it broke.

Stayne, who hadn't thought that far ahead about it, now considered the possibility. "I don't believe any of the huntsmen would do such a thing. They've seen your exquisite wrath first hand."

There had been quite a few executions the first few weeks after settling down here, and though Iracebeth's favorite method of dispatching unwanteds was to chop off their heads, it was much more rewarding (and quite a deterrent to future problems) to see the traitors marching around with the rest of the dead soldiers.

"Oh, no," she said. "I'm sure no one from here would do such a thing. There's only one person who knows the land and is stupid enough to come here twice...no, make that three times now."

She should have killed him when she had the chance. In fact, as she thought on it, she should have just slit his throat in that field in Queast where she'd left him so long ago, but she was stupid and naïve then. Her past decisions mocked her now – had she really been so foolish to think that Freddie would ever help her of his own will? Again, she thought of the child that his wife carried with envy - a child who could help her become ruler of the whole of Underland, not merely stopping at the mountains or the Crimson Sea. A child with his father's powers under her control, plucking the fears from the minds of her enemies to be used against them. Her mouth watered at the glorious thought of what could be. Damn! She'd given the order to have his wife killed when she'd found they had escaped – clearly she'd been overwrought.

"Stayne, I've changed my mind about Freddie's wife, Lizzie. Have them bring her to me when they find her instead of killing her."

Ilosovic Stayne, who was frequently confused by the queen's behavior since he had no idea of the plans hatching in her mind, never the less answered directly, "It will be done, Your Majesty. There is one more thing. Huntsmen found evidence of horses having been stationed on the outskirts of the woods and they tracked evidence of their riders to the edge of the courtyard."

"So," she hissed. "They've been spying on us as well." She thought for a moment, then waved her hand dismissing the information. "No matter, let them come - in fact, put out the order not to approach or harass them. Let them get overconfident. If they see nothing has changed, they'll stop coming after the heavy snows fall." She grinned wickedly. "Then we'll send our new army to visit my sister."

* * *

Days turned to weeks, and life passed in the village of Southern Outland. Lizzie became fast friends with Dyvych's family, the woman herself becoming to Lizzie like the mother she'd never had. Fred ran patrols twice a week with Illynyr and the men on rotation that day. The days were becoming shorter but continued to be unseasonably warm, at least according to those who lived there. Lizzie, accustomed to seasons which began and ended on a regular schedule regardless of the weather, found that in Underland, one really did 'wait' for winter. Winter didn't begin until the first snowfall. Spring began when the first leaves appeared on the trees, summer when the prickleberries ripened, and autumn when the leaves changed.

Nearly every evening, Fred and Lizzie sat at their table recounting their day, sometimes playing cards, other times just talking until well into the night. For Fred, it was just enough to remind him of what he had lost. There had been nights when that he felt so close to her again that he'd had to leave the cabin and be alone, bitterly cursing Iracebeth into the dark night that hid his tears.

Each time, Lizzie was left to wonder what had happened. As the weeks passed, she found she looked forward more and more to the end of the day, to _their_ time. How odd that sounded in her mind, but as a person who had always been a bit awkward and shy around men, she found she'd never been so at ease with anyone her whole life. Those times when he'd left, there had been an incalculable sadness in his eyes, and she'd begun to wonder if maybe he was remembering his wife. She'd wondered since that first day about the rings on his fingers, but there were matching rings on a chain around his neck so she wasn't sure what to make of them. Dyvych's daughter, Mairwen, had explained to her that it was a sign of mourning after one's spouse had passed away. Lizzie never brought up the subject to Freddie, and he never talked about it.

That morning, the cabin was quiet when she woke up, which was odd for a rest day. Freddie was an earlier riser than she was and she could usually hear him clunking around with something in the other room. Sometimes she got the feeling that he was loud merely to wake her up, especially if he had somewhere he wanted to take her. How he could always seem to find the most amazing places when they were out wandering around was beyond her. This morning she dressed and opened the bedroom door to find herself alone in the cabin. She tidied it up a bit and then went out the door. She'd walked through most of the village, about to give up and go find something else to do - not that she was _looking_ for him - when she heard screaming coming from the field where all the kids usually gathered to play. She turned towards it and saw a flock of young girls running around, brushing at their dresses and shaking their hair out. She grinned knowingly and walked around the field from the other side, coming up the trail through the woods across from where the girls had been playing. Freddie, with six of the village's boys, crouched behind the bushes laughing at the girls who were still combing through their hair in the distance. He turned around and flashed her a bright smile. If it was one thing she had learned (or was it _relearned_?) about him was that, at heart, he was nothing but an overgrown kid – at least when he could get away with it. She went over and knelt down with the boys.

"What are you guys doing?"

"Why do you think we're doing anything?" Fred's eyes sparkled with mischief. He seemed to be hiding something behind his back.

"I saw some girls running around screaming like something was after them." She smiled sweetly at him. "Of course I thought of you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, nonchalantly. "I've found that girls generally run around screaming for no reason."

"Right. What's behind your back?"

He innocently held out an empty hand.

"Oh, come on...I'm not an idiot. What are you up to?"

One of the other boys held up an enormous caterpillar. "We're helpin' 'em practice flyin'," said the boy, "so's they get th' hang of it 'fore they turn t' butterflies." He put the caterpillar on a thin piece of wood, about a foot long and an inch wide and expertly flipped it, sending the creature over the bushes and straight into the hair of one of the girls who immediately screamed and ran away. The boys howled with laughter.

Lizzie whacked Fred on the back of his head. "You're terrible!" she teased. "Did you teach them how to do that?"

He grinned back at her. "They learned from the best."

She laughed at him. "I'm getting lunch, care to join me?"

"Sorry kids, gotta go."

The boys grumbled and whined as he stood up to leave. "Aw, come on Freddie, we was just getting' started!"

"Don't worry, I'll think of something even better next time." He turned to walk away with Lizzie when he felt something breeze past him. "Run!" They both ran from the boys, getting pelted with caterpillars as they went.

Fred stopped her before they entered the dining hall. "Hold on, I think you've got one caught in your hair."

"Ick, get it out." She turned around so her back was to him.

"Hold still." Fred reached out with hands that slightly trembled with the memory of touching her and pulled her hair back from where it spilled over her shoulders. Gently he raked his fingers through it, feeling for the non existent caterpillar.

Lizzie willed her heart to slow down as he stepped closer to her. He so very rarely touched her, but when he did, it seemed...she couldn't explain it, like a memory she could feel but couldn't see and couldn't find. There was something about him that was so different from anyone else she'd ever known. He could be a silly cut-up one minute, teasing her about one thing or another, then his eyes and voice would change slightly and he'd talk about something serious. He was a regular Jekyll and Hyde at times, two separate personalities, yet perfectly integrated with each other.

"Hmm, I guess it fell out," he said, stepping back from her. "Come on, I'm starving."

Later that evening, the weather turned colder, and the first flakes of snow fell on the village of Southern Outland.

* * *

To the north, a huntsman turned warlord rode along the ranks of men who had sworn their allegiance to him and to the Red Queen. Together they numbered nearly 600 strong. The chuffs from their horses breath peppered the night along with the muted clinking of the armaments they bore. At their head, the black flag of Northern Outland snapped in the wind. Remenhal guided his horse over to his second in command. He would be unable to ride with his men, but his was the greater army – an army of destruction and annihilation. He found it endlessly amusing that it was comprised of those who would have given their lives to protect the land and people that was, in death, their destiny to destroy.

The light snow swirled up from the cold barren land like banshees – the harbingers of death in ancient legends, and the wind keened eerily through the forest beyond them. It was almost time to leave.

* * *

It was still early – earlier than Lizzie normally woke up to be sure, the sun was just beginning to rise. That feeling was back – the feeling she'd had several times during the past two months of having dreamt of something important that she couldn't remember – a field? A forest perhaps? Or maybe a person? She could never recall after she was awake. She got up and looked out the window and smiled at the thick flakes of snow falling outside. Winter had come at last. She stripped off her gown and threw on a dress – the dark emerald green one that Freddie had commented looked good on her. She smoothed her hand across it, smiling as she felt the slight rise just below her navel, though it was hardly noticeable to anyone but her. According to Dyvych, who was also the resident mid-wife of the village, she guessed she was around 12 to 13 weeks along.

She shivered. Her room was cold and she supposed she was going to have to start sleeping with the door open if she wanted any heat from the fireplace. She opened the door and crept over towards the man lying by the fire. She stood quietly for a few minutes, watching him sleep.

"You're up early," he murmured, making her jump.

"I had a weird dream."

He opened his eyes and turned towards her, propping his head up on his elbow. "Really? What about?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, I can never remember. Hey, you should get up and look outside. It's snowing pretty hard."

He threw back the top of the bedroll and climbed out, wearing shorts Lizzie was relieved to see, though she still felt herself blush as he came over to where she stood. His bare shoulder brushed against hers as he gazed with her out the window. She stepped back – and noticed the scars on his back.

Fred felt the emotion ripple through her, the same feelings she'd had so long ago the first time she'd noticed them, though he doubted this time she'd throw her arms around him.

"What happened to you?" she asked softly.

"I got into a fight with Iracebeth... No, I suppose that would be Stayne actually," he corrected. "I lost."

"I'm sorry." Her eyes were still riveted to the marks that criss-crossed nearly every inch of his back.

His eyes searched her face, but she wasn't looking at him. "It was a long time ago." A thought flashed through her to him – she wanted to touch him, wanted to run her fingers along the scar she was looking at. She swallowed. He hesitated, waiting, but she made no move.

"I don't bite," he whispered gently.

She looked up then, startled at his reply that was so apt to what she was thinking, and for a second their eyes met. A world of lost memories stretched out between them, and to Lizzie it brought the same pain that made her wake at night with tears on her pillow and an incredible feeling that she had lost something that was more precious to her than even her own life. She stepped back and looked away.

Fred couldn't understand what it meant. There were times, like just then, when they came so close...to what, he didn't know. Almost as though their lives, the way they were _meant _to be, hovered there between them – but she'd always turn away, and he didn't press his luck. Someday...someday when all this crazy mess was over, someday if the spell broke (which he was becoming more and more cynical about as the weeks turned into months)...someday she'd be his again. He couldn't bear to think about her not.

He turned back towards his corner of the room where he grabbed a shirt and threw it on. "There'll be a festival tonight."

She looked back at him, grateful for the change of subject. "What do you mean?"

"This is the first rest-day after the first snowfall," he said, grinning. "I have it on good authority that Dyvych is going to conscript you to help bake pies. I want a bramble-berry."

"And no doubt would eat every bite of it and save none for anyone else," she teased.

"Hey, no one asked me to share."

"You ran off with the whole pie!"

He shrugged. "You make good pie."

There was not much she could say in response to that. "Come on then," she smirked. "Let's go see what trouble you can get yourself into."

The dining hall had a large kitchen in the back where the families who took turns at providing the meals would cook. It really did remind Lizzie of something from her days at camp, though the stoves and ovens here were all wood burning and there was no refrigeration. She stuck her head in the door and found that it was already full of good smells and plenty of helpers. Dyvych spotted her and waved her in as she made her own way over to the door.

"You're just in time, dearie. You'd best take over from Angie, I'm not sure if she thinks it'll taste good or if'n she's just not payin' attention, but I think she's put th' mashed roots into a pie."

She and Lizzie both broke out laughing. Mashed roots were, as far as Lizzie could tell, exactly the same as mashed potatoes. "She's probably too busy thinkin' about her new beau for this week," said Lizzie.

Fred popped in behind Lizzie and poked her in the ribs. "I want pie."

"You! Out!" Dyvych scolded him. "There's no men allowed in the kitchen on festival days. They do too much samplin' and not enough cookin'!"

There was a slate of cookies beside him. He reached for one, but the weaver woman whacked his hand. "Get!"

He looked over Dyvych's shoulder. "I think somethin's burnin'."

Lizzie shook her head and rolled her eyes while the woman turned around just long enough for Freddie to grab two cookies.

"See ya' later, Lizzie," he said as he brushed past her, escaping the kitchen.

"So," said Lizzie to Dyvych, "we need pies?"

"Aye! You know where everything is. Oh, and Lizzie...just make an extra one for Freddie this time."

Lizzie grinned at her and started to work.

* * *

Almost everything had been completed with the food that would need to cool so all the women, Lizzie included, grabbed chairs and went into one of the large storage rooms built onto the kitchen. They made a circle of the chairs around an enormous pile of roots that needed to be peeled and cut. Lizzie took a seat and listened as the gossip started to fly. She'd found that being around the women of a clan was a lot like a soap opera, only it was real life and you just heard about things instead of watched them, of course. There were a couple of givens – everyone listened patiently to Angie talk about her boyfriend of the week, to Thera and about how she swore her neighbor was growing horns, and of course everyone had their own superstitions about how to tell if Lizzie was carrying a boy or a girl (but thankfully they'd grow tired of that lately). Lizzie listened, but only half-heartedly. Her mind kept drifting back to earlier that morning and to Freddie's dark blue eyes as she stood beside him at the window.

"...isn't that right, Lizzie?"

The question jerked her out of her reverie. "What?" she asked as the others giggled.

"I said Freddie'll keep you warm this winter," said Angie.

Lizzie blushed furiously. "I'm...we're...it's not like that." She tried to concentrate on peeling the root in front of her. Murmurs of surprise and disbelief floated around the circle.

"Really?" asked one of the younger women. "Well, if he's available, I can take 'im off o' yer hands for ya', if you'd like."

Lizzie raised her head and glared at the woman, her face even more flushed than before.

The woman laughed. "Oh, I see. He's not _that _available, now is he? Don't worry, Lizzie, I'm only jokin'. Besides, he don't look at none o' _us_ like he looks at _you_."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," said Lizzie.

"Then y'ain't lookin' in th' right direction." More snickers followed while Lizzie tried to will herself to disappear.

"Now, now," said Dyvych, "enough with that, leave poor Lizzie alone." The woman turned to her. "Dear, why don't ya' escape these meddling hens for a while and see if we've got enough wood for th' stoves."

Lizzie hopped up, relief evident on her face. "No problem." She hurried back into the front of the kitchen and dutifully checked the wood boxes. The last one was only half full, so she threw on her heavy cloak and set off to where the wood was stacked against the fence-line that separated the woods from the village common across a short field. The snow was about six inches deep and she was glad she'd worn her boots that morning. She stopped in the middle of the field and looked around at the huge flakes that were falling – not thick, but steady. She didn't see anyone and grinned as she threw back the hood of her cloak and looked up into the gray, seamless sky - laughing as the flakes fell in her eyes and against her lashes, tickling her face. She stuck out her tongue and tried to catch one, but missed and spun herself around, chasing them until she caught one.

Fred, having exhausted most things he could think of to do, including a snowball fight with the other kids had taken to sitting against a tree not far from the dining hall doors, waiting for Lizzie and watching the snow fall. He was about to give up and find somewhere warmer to go when the door opened and she came out. He trailed her, hiding behind trees and bushes, fulling intending to whack her with a snowball as soon as she walked into the open field. Instead, he watched transfixed as she threw her hood back and her arms out, feeling the snow fall against her face, trying to catch snowflakes - just like he'd seen her do a million times when she was a child.

As heartbreakingly difficult as the last two months had been for him, he had been able to see a different side of Lizzie, one that he had never been able to experience before. They had come here with him nearly a total stranger to her and now their relationship was close to what it had been when they'd first come to Underland. It crossed his mind that this was how life might have been, in a different time and place. If Lizzie had been born in Underland as he was, members of the same clan (as they seemed to have been adopted into here). He would have done anything to win her love. He watched her another minute before he chucked the snowball at her. Incredibly – he missed.

Lizzie spun around, her eyes picking out Fred's movement from the tree-line. She took advantage of the opportunity of him hiding and not being able to see her to quietly run to the other side of the hedge he was behind. She scooped up two huge handfuls of snow, leaned over the bush, and dumped it on his head.

"Hey!" he complained, shaking snow off his head and out of his hood. "That's not fair! That's not how a snowball fight works!"

Lizzie laughed. "Oh, are we playing fair today? I didn't know you knew that rule."

He scowled at her, not accustomed to having anyone else get the upper hand in a game of his own choosing. "Ha ha, very funny." He stood up and brushed himself off. "What are you doing out here anyway? Did ya' miss me?" he teased, noticing she blushed slightly.

"No, I need to get more wood. Since you're obviously not busy, you can help me."

"You don't have to be snotty about it."

Her eyes narrowed at him. "What in the world are _you_ doing?" Surely he hadn't been waiting for her – had he? "Have you been sitting out here in the cold waiting on me?"

"No, of course not! I was having a snowball fight with the kids."

She glanced at him doubtfully. "The kids all came in for hot tea half an hour ago at least."

"Do you want help or not?" he grumbled.

Lizzie laughed. "Come on."

They reached the woodpile and Lizzie loaded Fred's arms down with wood. They were nearly back to the door of the dining hall when it struck Lizzie that Freddie walking in with her, carrying the wood she'd gone to get, was only going to make her the brunt of more teasing and gossip.

"Put the wood down here, I'll carry it in."

Fred looked at her suspiciously. Something just didn't add up right. First, the pregnant lady gets sent out into the snow to get more wood, now she wanted him to put it down before they got to the kitchen. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not putting it down in the snow just for you to pick it up again," he told her. "Hold the door for me."

Reluctantly she pushed open the door, her eyes darting around nervously. Maybe no one would notice them.

Freddie brushed past her. "Which box?" he asked.

"The last one." Why hadn't she put the wood from the box closest the door into the other one? Now they would have to walk right past everyone. She sighed. She was going to hear about this one for sure.

Fred emptied his armload of wood into the box and looked around. "Where'd ya' put all the goodies?"

"Never mind that," she whispered fiercely. "Get out..._please_?"

He grinned, curious as to why she wanted to get rid of him so badly. "Why?"

Laughter erupted from behind them and he turned around to see a group of women sitting in a loose circle, all their attention focused on himself and Lizzie - whose cheeks had turned quite a spectacular shade of red. His eyes shifted between them and her, picking up on their thoughts, and he realized that he'd managed to insert himself into some chick gossip session of which he and Lizzie seemed to be the focus of. No wonder she'd wanted him to leave. If he wasn't so afraid of what her reaction might be, he'd _give _them something to talk about, gossiping old hags.

"All right, all right, I'm going. See ya' at supper." He flashed her a grin as he disappeared out the door.

Lizzie sighed and went back to her chair and picked up her knife and a root, ignoring the bemused faces surrounding her.

"So..," started Angie, "that was _awfully_ nice of him to help you. Did you find him or was he waiting for you outside the door?"

"He looked pretty cold," said a woman named Glenna. "I'll bet he was waiting out in the snow for her."

Lizzie decided staying quiet just wasn't working. "He's married," she said quietly.

"No," said Angie, "he _was_ married. I've seen his wife's rings around his neck. Poor guy, I wonder what happened to her." She was quiet a moment, lost in speculation. "Oh!" She looked back at Lizzie, astonished. "You don't remember him, from before Iracebeth took you, right?"

Lizzie glanced at her warily. "No..."

"Maybe they're _your_ rings, Lizzie! Maybe you're really his wife and you just don't remember him!" Her eyes lit up at the possibility. "Wow, wouldn't that be romantic?"

"I think I need to check my pies," muttered Lizzie. She got up and left the circle, willing herself not to even consider such an outrageously improbable suggestion.

* * *

After supper, everyone gathered in the town square where a few of the villagers had gotten together sort of makeshift band. There were a few people with what looked like some sort of a pipe with horns on both ends, one person with a large harp, another with a harp that was much smaller and woman with another instrument she'd never seen before, some sort of a box with strings on it. Lizzie asked the person next to her what the two she didn't recognize were. The pipes were pibgyrns, and the box with strings, which was meant to be played like a violin apparently, was a crwth.

The music started and people partnered off to dance in the square, but Lizzie's attention was caught more by the people lighting lanterns and hanging them from the trees. A sliver of a memory came to her – lanterns, like Japanese globes, hanging from the boughs of an apple tree in bloom – and with it came that painful feeling of having forgotten something that should never have been forgot. She left the crowd and wandered back towards the edge of the courtyard as her tears began to fall.

Freddie looked around for Lizzie, but he couldn't find her anywhere. They'd gotten separated after supper when she'd helped to clear the tables and he'd gone to help carry wood for the bonfire. A woman noticed him, told him he looked lost, and pointed him towards the tree-line at the edge of the courtyard.

He started across the short field, wondering why in the world Lizzie had come all the way out here. She was going to freeze to death. He found her sitting against a tree, all but invisible with her cloak wrapped around her and her hood pulled down over her face, and sat down close beside her.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He felt her sorrow, even without seeing her tears.

She raised her head and pushed her hood back enough to see, but didn't look at him. "I was just thinking, that's all."

"About what?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing, probably. It's just...sometimes I remember things, but they don't make any sense. Something will remind me of something else and...," her voice caught as she began to weep again, "...and it...it's just _nothing..._but it _hurts_. It feels like my heart is braking, but...the memories, they never _mean_ anything."

Fred put his arm around her shoulders and she rested her head back against him. "What did you remember?" he asked her.

"An apple tree at night," she sobbed, "in full bloom. There were lanterns hanging from the branches." She shook her head. "That's it...that's all it was, just a split second, and then it was gone."

He was glad she couldn't see him, for her words had made his own eyes burn with tears. A night he would never forget, on a balcony at Marmoreal, when he had touched her – kissed her – without thinking of himself as Drop Dead Fred, but as a man grateful for the forgiveness of the woman he held so dear. He gave her a gentle squeeze.

"Freddie?"

"Yeah?"

"What if my memories never come back? What if they're gone forever?"

He rested his forehead against the wool of her hood, not wanting to even consider that possibility. "Then we'll just have to make new ones," he said, without thinking. Someone was calling to them from across the courtyard. "Hey, we'd better go before they send out a search party."

He stood and helped her up, keeping her hand in his as they walked back to the square, which was now nearly as bright as day with the lantern light reflecting off the snow. Fred stopped abruptly and dropped Lizzie's hand. She turned around and watched as he slowly sank to his knees, unmindful of the cold ground. Lizzie knelt down in front of him, worried. His eyes, an odd sea-green color, seemed to be focused on something far beyond them, beyond the light of the square, beyond the night that surrounded them.

"Freddie? Are you okay?" she reached out to touch him, but a hand caught hers before she did. It was Dyvych who had also knelt down beside them.

"Don't touch him, dear," she whispered. "He's seein' something."

Others who passed stopped and watched, murmuring to those around him until it seemed the entire village held it's breath, waiting to know what was happening. After two or three minutes, he groaned and rubbed his eyes, focusing again on the world around him. He looked grimly at Lizzie and Dyvych.

"What have you seen?" asked Dyvych.

"A future I hope can be changed," was all he offered. "Where's Illynyr?"

"Here," a voice called behind him. Fred stood as the young leader made his way through the crowd.

Fred drew him aside anxiously. "I think we should go north and check Iracebeth's fortress. We haven't been there since the snow started falling four days ago."

"What did you see?" asked Illynyr.

"Marmoreal burning."


	8. The Long Road Home

"_I know in my bones  
I've been here before,  
the ground feels the same,  
though the land's been torn.  
I've a long way to go -  
the stars tell me so,  
on this road that will take me home."_

_-Mary Fahl_

* * *

Nearly all the able-bodied men of the village volunteered to ride with Fred and Illynyr to Iracebeth's fortress. Normally it would be hard to hide such a number, but no one knew what they might encounter on the way and the snow had begun falling at such a rate that it would be dangerous for only a few riders to undertake the journey in the dark. In the wee hours of the morning, the group of 73 men, young and old, rode north towards the Red Queen and the army Fred so desperately hoped would still be there. There would be no way for mortal men to follow them in time to overtake them in the snow and if the doors were still being guarded, warning Marmoreal in time to prepare for an invasion would be a feat in and of itself.

It was almost a four hour ride by horseback to the entrance of the northern forest on a warm day and though leather riding gear helped with the cold, they were forced to slow their pace to avoid the biting wind. Day was breaking when they finally reached the tree-line where they left the horses. Fifty men stayed behind and made camp, guarding their path home, and another ten stayed the usual quarter mile back from the fortress, to warn them of any approaching dangers. The last thirteen of them, Fred included, made their way to the rear of the fortress as they normally would on a patrol.

The first thing Freddie noticed was how few guards there were. Usually, even in early morning, there would be at least five or six wandering around – and this was the least guarded side. The second thing he noticed as they moved around directly across from the barracks, was that the doors that once shut Iracebeth's army in stood wide open. The soldiers were gone. The men shared bleak looks with each other.

"Alright," said Illynyr, "we know they aren't here. Let's find out which way they've gone. Gareth, Ellydr, head back to the others and let them know what's going on. Everyone else, let's head around to the front and try to find their trail."

Illynyr, Fred, and the other men made their way through the forest slowly around to the other side of the castle. The early morning sun filtered through the trees and had it been as heavily guarded as it normally was, they'd have been spotted for certain, but the fortress was nearly a ghost town.

Fred tried to sense whether or not Iracebeth was still there, but he was having a hard time concentrating while making his way through the snowy undergrowth. What used to be as easy as breathing when he was younger was harder now – it had been a long time since he'd needed to test the limits of abilities. He made his way up beside Illynyr.

"I need to see if I can tell if Iracebeth's still here, but I'll need to stop for a minute," he told him. "Go on ahead, I'll catch up."

Illynyr nodded acknowledgement and Fred slowed down to let the others pass him. After they were a short distance away, he crouched down and closed his eyes, searching through the fortress for a mind he knew all too well. He found her but was surprised that she would still be in a place that was so unguarded. He sensed less than twenty soldiers. She must have a lot of faith in her plan he thought grimly.

He rose and started making his way back to the others when Chess appeared in front of him.

"Chess, thank goodness!"

The cat blinked his large blue-green eyes at Freddie and growled slightly. "You're the hardest person to find I know of," he hissed. "What do you think you're doing all the way up here?"

"We're checking on Iracebeth, what the hell do you think we're doing?"

"I've been trying to find you."

"How was I supposed to know that? Have you seen the army?"

Chess's hair bristled at the mention of them. "Around the mountains by the Crimson Sea, but traveling fast. I just noticed them a few hours ago."

Fred looked around at the snow covered ground. "They're going to Marmoreal. You have to warn Mirana, Chess, it'll be a hell of a lot easier for you than me."

"I'm not sure what she can do about it, but I'll let them know." The cat began to fade.

"Wait! The doors, are they still guarded?"

The cat continued to disappear until only his head was still visible. "Not the ones that I saw," he said, and he was gone.

Fred found Illynyr and the other men near the front of the fortress. From their higher vantage point, they could see where a wide swath of snow had been trodden down, quickly being covered by the new snow that was still falling.

"Chess found me," he told Illynyr. "He's going to warn Marmoreal."

"That's good, but something's not right," said the young man as he scanned the trails below them. "If the army left together, all the tracks should be the same depth in the snow." He pointed to the trail going up over the rise that would lead to the sea. "Those tracks are older by several hours than th' tracks of the horses."

"What would that mean?"

He shook his head. "Don't know. It's hard t' tell how many horses there were. They must have been travelin' by pairs out the gate. Maybe Remenhal and his men were following them, but I don't know why they would have held back so long." He turned around. "Come on, let's get back. There's not much we can do from here except freeze t' death."

They retraced their steps through the forest, picking up the ten who had stayed further out. When they were just within sight of the fire and the horses, one of the younger men who had been stationed at the tree-line ran up to Illynyr.

"Sir! We've got trouble!"

Illynyr and the others ran ahead after the messenger to where they'd made camp. Another man met him as they arrived.

"What going on?" asked Illynyr.

The man's eyes flashed angrily. "A camp, ashes of th' fires still warm, not half a mile from where w' are now." He gestured west of them. "Big enough t' be th' whole damn army o'the north. Had t' be hundreds o' riders...headed south."

The young leader's face drained of color. "_Two_ armies," he whispered. He turned to Fred. "That's why the trails were different. There's not _one_ army, there are _two_. Remenhal's gathered his huntsmen and ridden south. If he's going to Marmoreal, our village stands between his riders and the Grampas Bluffs."

Fred's head spun. They were still hours from the village. "Is there a way we can overtake them?"

Illynyr looked at him, his face was calm, but Fred could read the despair behind it. There was no way they could out-ride Remenhal's huntsmen, even on a good day. The man shook his head slightly. "No," he said softly, "but for the sake of the other men, we need to try." He turned back around and shouted. "Remenhal's already got a lead on us, we're gonna have to ride hard t' catch 'im, men. Let's go."

They mounted their horses and left, streaming across the barren plain.

Fred concentrated on the rhythm of his horse's hoof beats, not wanting to think about what Illynyr had told him. Surely, if it was an entire army, they would need to stop again. He fully expected they would come over a rise and see a camp spread out below them long before they made it to the village. The miles passed, but there was nothing. The snow had tapered to flurries and the land stretched out on either side of them – if there was anything to see, they would be able to see it. His heart pounded nearly as loud as the horses hooves as they got closer and closer to their destination. They were still a good distance away when he saw the smoke. It wasn't chimney smoke - the wispy trails of white that swirled up and dissipated in the wind - this was black, rolling, boiling smoke. He tried not to compare it to that of a house fire. After what felt like a lifetime, they crested the last hill and his heart seemed to stop as he saw the dining hall blazing in the village before him.

_[Lizzie... ]_

They rode into the village and Fred ran to their cabin and threw open the door. It was empty. He left the cabin and ran up the lane to towards the fire. The houses, trails, all were deserted, silent, and dead save for the inferno of the dining hall which must have been burning for a while. He ran to where the doors to the hall were – the only doors in or out of a building that would hold the entire population of the village. They were still there, though most of the walls around them had burned away. They were closed, and barred from the outside by heavy planks, nailed across them. His vision swam and he felt like throwing up. Surely not...surely no one would be so cruel. He thought of his wife and unborn child, locked in the hall while Remenhal's huntsmen shut them in and set fire to it. "No!" The anguish at what could only be true filled his soul as he cried out her name. "_Lizzie! No, not my Lizzie..."_


	9. His Father's Child

_A/N: This chapter begins at the same place the last chapter began, right after the men leave to ride north._

_Again, thanks so much for the awesome reviews!_

_Make sure you read the author notes at the end._

_As in "The Long Journey Home", telepathic conversations are shown in [italics].  
_

* * *

"_You don't know how you met me, you don't know why,  
but you can't turn around and say good-bye.  
All you know is when I'm with you, I make you free  
and swim through your veins like a fish in the sea._

_Follow me, everything is alright.  
I'll be the one to tuck you in at night,  
and if you want to leave, I can guarantee  
you won't find nobody else like me."_

_-Uncle Kracker_

* * *

Lizzie didn't sleep until after they had left, but she suspected she wasn't the only one. Even then, long after she'd gone to bed, her mind wouldn't let her rest. She couldn't forget what Freddie had said to her in the woods when she'd asked him about her memories. He'd said, _"We'll just have to make new ones"_. _We. _Did he mean to imply that the ones she'd lost were of him? She thought back over all the spots that were blank in her mind. Of course she didn't remember Freddie, but there were other things...things that she'd never thought to associate with him. For a moment she let herself speculate on what she'd kept from thinking of until now. Mentally, she made a list; her child's father, where she had been since she'd come to Underland, Freddie and everything about him. The first one, her child's father, was the enigma she'd pushed the furthest from her mind. The more she learned about this gift, the more she knew what - or _who_ to be exact - the answer was. She didn't have it, so the only answer for that would be for the child's father to have it. For the first time, she let herself consider the only possibility that made sense – that Freddie was the father. Accepting that only made other things make sense as well. Lizzie thought back to the anguished look in his eyes at Iracebeth's fortress when she had told him she didn't know who he was. She thought of the rings he still wore on his fingers, the wife he never spoke of, the clothes he'd brought her in the mountains that had fit like they were hers. She stopped herself. She was so exhausted, she couldn't be certain if the puzzle she felt she was finally putting together was true or something she'd just conjured out of her own imagination and longing for the man in question.

"Lizzie, you're being ridiculous," she told herself. "Go to sleep."

She rolled over and shut her eyes. The night waned on and at last, she began to dream.

It was the same dream she'd had over and over the past two months. When she awoke, all was forgotten, but the moment the dream began she remembered every other time she'd been there. She smiled and ran over the hill and through the field to the valley where the little boy sat in his strange crystal palace. Most of her visits had been like the first, merely sitting with him, watching him play. This time as she entered the small room where he sat, his eyes met hers immediately and she felt there seemed to be something amiss.

She knelt beside him. "What's wrong?" she asked.

_["I need to show you something"],_ he said in her mind. He reached out and touched her forehead. Instantly she was transported into the air, high above Southern Outland. All the land stretched out before her. She could see the village in the early dawn sun, smoke swirling lazily from the chimneys. Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. A band of horsemen – more than a band, an _army_ of hundreds of horsemen, the black flag of Northern Outland at their head, streamed down the hill overlooking the village. She watched horrified as they rode into the street, swords drawn. Here the vision ended and she found herself back inside her dream, in front of the boy.

"Was that real? Those men are really coming?" She thought about Freddie and the others. Had they ridden into an ambush?

_[Yes]_, he said. _[When you wake, find Dyvych and tell her.] _His blue eyes seemed to plead with her. _ [This time, you must remember me.]_

The room was still dark when she woke, but her mind was fully awake. The dream – she remembered now, and not just this once, but the memory of every time she had been there suddenly blazed to life in her mind. She jumped out of bed and dressed as fast as she could, throwing her cloak around her. She hesitated a moment, then buckled Freddie's extra sword around her own waist. Lord knew what she'd do if she actually had to use it, but it eased her mind at least. She left her cabin and hurried through the dark trails to the weaver's home. If this was just a weird dream that meant nothing, she was going to feel horrible about waking her – but something inside her knew that if she did nothing, it would spell the end of Southern Outland. She raised her hand, knocked, and waited. After a few moments, the glow of a lamp lit the snow through the window, and Dyvych opened the door.

"Lizzie!" the older woman looked at her anxiously. "What's the matter? Is it the baby?" Lizzie shook her head. "Come in, dear, out of the cold," she continued.

"I had a dream, Dyvych, but it wasn't a dream," she told her quickly. "It was a vision, a boy that I see in my dreams showed me and then told me I had to tell you when I woke up."

"Easy, child, slow down. Sometimes dreams are more important than what we see with our eyes. What was the vision?"

"An army of hundreds of horsemen, with the flag of the North, coming into the village at dawn."

The woman looked at her strangely. "A child sent you this vision?"

"The same child I've dreamed about nearly every night since I've been here, but I could never remember the dream or him until now."

Dyvych took her cloak from its hook and threw it on. "Come, we need to wake the others."

Lizzie followed Dyvych through the village to the dining hall. There was a large bell on a post outside the building. She had walked past it many times, but never given it a thought, nor had she ever seen it used. Now, it's clang split through the silence of the night. A few minutes later, the women of the village began to filter out of their homes and gathered anxiously around Dyvych and Lizzie outside the hall. Dyvych waited until most had arrived then she spoke.

"We believe Remenhal's army is coming towards us and will be here by dawn." Worried murmurs and surprised gasps filtered through the crowd. "I know we thought this day would never come, but at least we're prepared. Jemma, you're the fastest rider..."

"I'm on m'way," said the girl.

"How certain are we o'this?" asked someone in the crowd.

"We can't be sure, yet," answered Dyvych, "but I'd rather be safe than dead. Jemma will ride ahead t' see if she can spot their horsemen. Otherwise, we need to put the plan we have in place. If it's a false alarm, just think of it as practice. Because of th' snow, we're going t' need to throw them off our trail. After you get ready, come back here to th' dining hall and walk around it so's it looks like we've all come together here. Then follow my trail down to th' wood-pile, but single file. Make sure you follow each other. A small trail to th' wood isn't going t' raise suspicions, but th' whole village going there will. Let's go now, everyone know whats t' do." People quickly returned to their homes to get dressed.

"I can get th' hall ready," said Angie. "I'm small enough to fit through th' roof hatch."

"That's good. Don't forget t' bolt the doors an' put the shutters up. Nothing works if it doesn't look right." The girl ran towards the building, but Dyvych called after her. "Angie...quickly and then go to the entrance." Angie nodded and ran inside.

Dyvych took Lizzie's arm and led her through the field towards the edge of the courtyard, where they stacked the wood.

"What's going on?" asked Lizzie.

"When Remenhal took over the northern clans, Illynyr worried that he might come south and try to take us as well," explained Dyvych. "We knew we'd be no match for them in combat. There are over 500 in his army and barely 200 of us, and that's including women and children. We decided we needed a plan to protect ourselves. You're about to see it in action." She stopped by the tree-line at what looked at first glance to be pieces of firewood laid in a square about four feet wide at the end of where all the wood for the kitchen was stacked. Dyvych bent over and grabbed a leather handle that had been invisible against the ground and pulled it up, revealing a trap door, camouflaged by the pieces of wood that Lizzie now noticed were nailed to the top of it. There were stairs leading down, and on the first step was an oil lamp and a vial of lighting fluid.

"Dear, you'll have to help me push the door all the way over, I'm not as young as I used to be."

Lizzie took one side and together they folded the door back from the ground on the hinges connecting the far side. Dyvych picked up the lamp and lit it. "It's a little scary at first, but we try to sweep it out a couple times a year."

Lizzie stopped her before she could go down. "Dyvych, what if it was just a silly dream? Everyone will just think I'm nuts."

The woman shook her head. "I can feel it now, too." She looked out, past the village, into the darkness. "I don't have the visions, but I can sense that something isn't right. Something is coming." She turned back to Lizzie. "If you hadn't of woken me, I doubt we would be here t' see the mornin'." Dyvych laid her hands on Lizzie's shoulders. She didn't think she'd ever seen the usually jovial woman so serious. "When I take you down here, I don't want you to come back up before we know it's safe. Not for anything. An unborn child who has the power to send his mother a vision to warn her of what is coming cannot fall into the hands of Iracebeth. Do you understand?"

Lizzie nodded. "But what about Freddie, and Illynyr, and all the other men who went north? You don't think they're..."

"...I think before the day is done, they're probably going to be more worried for us than we need to be for them."

Others now began to join them at the entrance to the hideout, lined up single file so as to not make a large path through the snow. It would look to anyone else like the trail everyone used to fetch wood. Dyvych handed Lizzie the lamp and the lighting fluid.

"If you could light the other lamps below, dear, I'll make sure everyone gets safely down."

Lizzie held the lamp to light her way as she went down the narrow staircase. She expected it to be like a damp root cellar below, but as she found the other lamps and lit them, she was amazed at the depth of skill and craftsmanship that surrounded her. The main room was nearly the size of the dining hall, and several long tables the same as the ones above lined the walls. The floor and walls had been set with stones, carefully cut to fit together nearly seamlessly, and the ceiling had been coated with something that looked like plaster to keep the dirt in place. A network of heavy beams and columns kept the top from caving in. To one side of the room was a hallway which she found led to several makeshift bedrooms, stocked with quilts and blankets, and a privy. She went back to the main room to wait for Dyvych.

Angie came down the steps and grinned at Lizzie. "Well, the hall's taken care of, I just hope they fall for it."

"I'm kind of new here, Angie, what's going on with the dining hall?"

"Well, Illynyr figured that the best way to save the village might be for Remenhal to think that we'd all boarded ourselves up in the hall, hiding from them. There's no way to see in with the shutters locked, and only the one door out, so we cut a hatch on the roof so that someone could go in and lock everything and then get out." Her eyes danced with anticipation. "Not that anyone wants them to burn the hall down, but it's a hell of a lot better than them burnin' our houses down."

"That's pretty...ingenious."

"Illynyr's pretty amazing," the girl said quietly. She blushed slightly and walked away.

Lizzie watched her go, thinking that the girl who talked up all the boys in town might be a bit smitten with the clan leader. Wouldn't that be an interesting pair...

About half an hour later Jemma, the girl who had gone to scout, came down the stairs. She was out of breath. "They're comin' all right! I let th' horses out an' told 'em t' take cover in th' forest. Lizzie, can ya' help me shut th' door?"

Lizzie followed her back up the stairs and together they folded the door back over the entrance, and closed it over the top of them and the hidden stairway. The waiting had begun.

For about ten minutes, there was nothing. Then the ground began to vibrate slightly. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as the tremors increased and the muffled sound of a multitude of hoof beats filtered through the ground.

"There must be hundreds of them," whispered Angie.

Gradually the sound and vibrations ceased.

"Maybe they just passed by," said one woman.

"More likely they're pillaging our houses," said another.

Dyvych glanced at them and put her finger to her lips for silence. "I don't need to tell you what will happen if they find us," she said quietly.

* * *

With Remenhal leading Iracebeth's army of the dead, command of the Army of the North fell to his second, a man named Morgant. Excised from his northern clan for murdering another man, Morgant had lived the past few years reveling in his retribution over the farmers that he blamed for what had been his lot in life. Now, on this crisp winter morning, the sun already shining brightly over the hills of fresh snow, he led the huntsmen down through the silent village.

"Don't worry 'bout takin' any prisoners," he shouted to the men. "Ain't one of 'em worth th' trouble. Jest kill 'em quick afore they wake 'an lets get on with it."

Most of the riders circled around the village, forming a barrier to those stragglers they expected to shortly be running for their lives. Others dismounted, entering the houses and cabins, swords drawn, fully prepared to dispatch those left in the village as they slept. Time passed and one by one, they came back out, confused. There was no one there.

They came to Morgant. "Sir, they must have been warned. There's no one in the village."

Morgant scanned the modest streets and houses. "Oh, they're here alright. What, do y' think they've hidden in th' woods wit their babes an' children? Look at th' footprints." He rode up to the front of the dining hall. A mass of footprints disturbed the snow around the entrance to the building. "Open th' doors." A soldier strode up to the double doors and pulled, but they didn't budge.

"They're locked, sir."

Morgant pointed to the hall. "_That_ men is where th' women folk are. Locked up all snug 'n their kitchen. Fetch some boards an' nails. If they want t' stay 'n there, they can die 'n there."

The supplies were scavenged for and fetched and the doors were barred from the outside.

"Light it an' let's go. We've a lot o' miles t' cover afore we reach th' bluffs."

Torches were tossed up onto the roof of the building and fires lit around the side walls. As soon as the blaze took hold, Morgant gave the order to move out. He'd completely forgotten Iracebeth's order to find the pregnant woman with the long black hair and bring her back alive. Had he remembered, he would have had the doors of the dining hall broken down – his error saved the ruse and the lives of everyone in the village. Several hours later, Morgant realized what he had done. Knowing if he returned to Iracebeth, his punishment would be as a soldier in her dead army, he appointed another leader to the Army of the North, and quietly hung himself in the forest.

* * *

The hours dragged on slowly for the women of Southern Outland. Luckily the hideout had been stocked with a multitude of card games and boards with pieces similar to those of chess. There was also lots of hard candy put away for the children to nibble on and a sort of grain-based ration bar for anyone who got hungry, not to mention numerous barrels of water. No one dared to open the door for fear they would be seen or raise their voices above a whisper. The consequences were too great, no matter how slim the chances.

The more time passed, the more Lizzie's thoughts turned to Freddie. She tried to take heart in Dyvych's words that they shouldn't worry about the men who had gone north, but she couldn't stop her mind from seeing them - a small band of farmers riding across the barren, windswept plain straight into the path of the Northern Army.

_Why_, she asked herself, why had she not seen the truth until now – until she was hidden away underground, countless miles from the one who filled her thoughts and her heart? Memories or no memories, past or no past, she knew she loved him. There was no other, there could never be another. She thought of the child from her dream – a child with red hair and blue eyes, but she didn't know if his appearance was something she had created from her own imagination or if it was the true form of the child she carried - a little boy with an uncanny resemblance to one who might very well be his father.

She didn't want to cry, not here, not when everyone needed so much to stay strong and calm, but her tears were like waves on the ocean, refusing to be held back. Dyvych noticed her and put her arm around her shoulders.

"There, there, s'no need t' cry, dear. You've doubtless saved all our lives t'day. Gwynne the huntress hasn't blown her horn for us, yet."

"I should've told him..."

Understanding shone in the womans eyes. "Ah...well, I think you'll have a chance for that still."

Lizzie tried to find something else to think about. "What did you mean? About the huntress?"

"Gwynne the Huntress," Dyvych explained, "is a legend that is as old as people can remember in the Outlands. It's said that right before you die, you hear the notes of a hunting horn and a beautiful woman, riding on a golden mare comes to bear your soul to the Summer Land." She grinned. "O' course 'tis all speculation since no one who's seen her has lived t' tell th' tale."

Lizzie tried to smile in return, but her heart wasn't in it.

* * *

They had been underground about five hours when three knocks sounded on the trap door above them, making everyone jump. The three knocks were followed by a pause, five knocks, a pause, and three more knocks. Everyone below cheered as the door was thrown open by two of the men who'd gone north that morning. The women and children climbed quickly up the stairs, into the sunshine and fresh air.

One of the men came over to Lizzie. "Pardon me, miss, but I need ya' t' come with me an show Freddie yer not dead."

Lizzie followed the man across the courtyard, towards the smoldering dining hall.

* * *

"_Lizzie!_" Fred screamed. "_Lizzie!_" Unthinkingly, he began to run towards the still burning building. Two men close to him caught him before he could get far and held him back. Illynyr ran over to him and grabbed him as well, but Fred could think of nothing but the woman and child he knew must be dead and burning before him.

"Freddie," shouted Illynyr, "Freddie! They're not there! Look at me." The man took his face and forced him to look at him. "It's a ruse, Freddie, they aren't in there. It's a trick...someone must have warned them."

Fred's eyes finally focused on the young man. "What are you saying?"

Illynyr gave a relieved laugh as Fred finally stopped struggling and looked at him. "They aren't there. We had a plan, in case the north attacked. It was meant to look like we'd locked ourselves in the dining hall. No one's in there. Somehow they found out, someone warned them." Illynyr smiled as he saw one of the other men leading the woman in question towards them. "Turn around, you'll see."

Fred cast Illynyr a last doubtful look before he turned around. A strangled moan escaped him as he saw Lizzie, running towards him. He met her halfway, gathering her in his arms and crushing her to him.

"Lizzie, oh Lizzie," he murmured into her hair. "I thought I'd lost you. I thought you were dead."

He pulled back from her, wiping the tears from her face, even as his own continued to fall. He wanted so much to kiss her, but he dared not. If she never touched him again, he would be grateful only to have her alive and near him.

"I thought _you_ were dead," she said. All around them, other happy reunions were taking place.

He shook his head. "We never saw them, they'd already left when we noticed their camp. Lizzie, we thought we'd be coming back to a slaughter. How in the world..."

She grinned up at him. "I had another weird dream, only this time I remembered it."

He pulled her back into another hug. "You never cease to amaze me," he whispered. "Nice sword by the way."

Lizzie laughed. "Better to be safe than sorry, maybe you ought t' teach me to use it."

"Maybe so."

Illynyr walked up to them and cleared his throat. Fred stepped back from Lizzie and looked at the man. "Sorry, Freddie," he said, "but there's a man who defected from th' North earlier this year who says he thinks he knows how t' stop Iracebeth's army."

Fred frowned, knowing he needed to follow Illynyr, but wanting more than anything to stay with Lizzie.

"You'd better go. Don't worry," she assured him. "I'll be alright."

He sighed reluctantly. "Yeah, I know. I'll let you know what happens." Letting her go felt like breaking off a piece of himself. He followed Illynyr back through the courtyard, turning one last time to look at Lizzie.

"I'm really sorry, I know there's somewhere else you'd rather be," said the clansman.

Fred shook his head. "If there's a way to stop them before they get to Marmoreal, we need to know. We can't fight them."

The men who had run patrols to the north and knew the lay of the land the best gathered in Illynyr's home to hear what the former huntsman had to say. Fred recognized him from the village, but had never spoken to him personally.

"There's a way," the man began, "t' take out Remenhal without fightin' Iracebeth's army. He's th' one who'll be leading them with that damned magic horn o' his."

"How's that?" asked Illynyr.

"He can't be killed like a mortal man," he continued. "His heart's in th' possession o' th' Red Queen herself. It's said that she has it in a bag, held by a raven on a perch above her throne. Ya kill th' heart, ya' kill th' man an' mebe th' whole army wit 'im."

"Now'd be th' best time," said Gareth. "Wasn't nobody hardly guardin' th' place anymore."

"There's only about 20 soldiers left," offered Fred, "I really doubt they'd put up much of a fight."

Illynyr nodded. "Agreed. Freddie, would you be able to lead a group there? I'll take another and we'll scout behind th' huntsmen and make certain of their path."

"I can do that," said Fred.

"Everyone here will go with Freddie, I'll round up another group t' follow me south. We'll all leave in th' mornin'. None of us is goin' t' be any count without some sleep." He stood as did the others, but he motioned for Fred to stay until the others had gone. When they'd left, he turned back to him.

"If this doesn't work, I'm not sure what we can do for Marmoreal," he told Fred. "And even if this does destroy Iracebeth's army, we've still got th' other."

"Chess said the doors that I use to travel between places weren't guarded anymore. That would make sense if Remenhal's recalled everyone to join his ranks. If we're able to get the heart, I'll send the others back and leave to warn Marmoreal about the Northern Army from there. The door in Northern Outland will take me there faster than coming back to the one in Southern."

The other man shook his head. "I have no idea what your talkin' about, but I trust your judgment. Go on back home an' get some rest. Tomorrow's goin' t' be longer than today."

* * *

After Freddie left to go with Illynyr, Lizzie had gone back to the cabin. She'd had every intention of staying awake until he got back, but an exhausted, dreamless sleep overtook her the moment she lay down on her bed. She was still asleep when Fred got back.

The door to the bedroom was open and he stood at the threshold and watched her a moment before turning back around. He took off his damp shirt and pants leaving the shorts on underneath and pulled a chair from the table up in front of the fire and sat down. Resting his head in his hands, he closed his eyes and willed his tired mind to think of nothing but the sound of the fire crackling. He was half asleep before he realized Lizzie was standing behind him.

She'd woken and come out of her room to find him sitting alone in a chair by the fire, his face buried in his hands. She came up behind him and placed her hands on his bare shoulders. He must be exhausted, she thought - it was unusual that anyone could sneak up on him, but she felt him startle slightly at her touch. Slowly, she began to knead his tense muscles, moving across his shoulders and neck. He groaned appreciatively, and she smiled and stepped closer to him. She'd wanted for so long to touch him, nearly as long as she could remember him. There was something between them, something that seemed to draw them together, from the moment she'd loosed his bonds in Iracebeth's dungeon to today when she'd had her revelation while hiding from the invaders. And now, well, she wanted him, _all_ of him, and she wasn't waiting any longer.

Every trace of exhaustion had disappeared the instant she'd touched him. Fred sat up and leaned back, resting his head against her, feeling her breathing and pulse quicken as he did. Gradually the massaging of her hands turned to caresses as she ran her fingers gently over the scars at the top of his shoulders and down his chest. For a man who'd not been with his wife in over two months, there was only so much he could endure. Her breath caught as he reached up and captured her hands. Moving one arm over him to the other side, he pulled her around, onto his lap and into his arms. His eyes met hers and he was surprised to feel her longing for him was nearly as strong as his own for her. He kissed her tenderly, and she responded, moving her arms around his neck. The rings on the chain around his neck clinked together quietly as they came to rest against Lizzie's breast. She moved her hand back between them and closed it around the rings and sat up. Her fingers trembled as she looked down at them. She knew she had to ask, regardless of what the answer might be, it was the one thing they'd never talked about.

"Freddie," she whispered, her voice betraying her anxiety, "whose rings are these?"

His dark blue eyes met hers and a slight smile played across his lips. "My wife's rings."

"Who's your wife, Freddie?" she pressed.

His smile got bigger and he kissed the spot below her ear softly, making her shiver. "The only woman I've ever loved."

Lizzie tried to keep her focus, she wasn't going to be satisfied with one of Freddie's usually ambiguous answers. "What's her _name_?"

He stopped and looked back up at her. "I'm fairly sure you remember your own name, Elizabeth."

He was unprepared for the joy that suddenly filled her as she threw her arms around him.

He buried his face in her hair. "Lizzie," he murmured. "my Lizzie..."

He felt her tears on his shoulder, but it was a long moment before she spoke. "I haven't even dared to hope, and yet...there's something I can't explain between us, and I couldn't tear myself away from you if I tried." She sat back and smiled sadly at him as he brushed the tears from her cheeks. "What happened to me?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I left you before dawn to check on a guard that had gone missing in the Outlands. I woke you and told you good-bye. That was the last time you knew me."

She began to cry in earnest now, her heart broken for the pain she knew she'd caused him. He was her _husband_ and he'd stood by patiently the last two months, saying nothing, making her fall in love with him all over again. He picked up on her guilt before she spoke. "I'm so sorry, Freddie. I can't imagine how hard this has been for you. And all the while, you've been nothing but patient with me."

"It's not your fault, Lizzie. Nothing was your fault. This was all Iracebeth's doing because she wanted the child. O_ur _child."

She shook her head. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I was afraid it would make you uncomfortable since you didn't remember me. Mirana thought the spell would break eventually and you'd remember everything. I'm sorry, Lizzie."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for." She took his hand, placing it against her abdomen and covered it with her own. "Your child saved the village today."

"_Our_ child...and my wife."

"Can I have my rings back?"

He laughed and took the chain from around his neck, unfastened the clasp, and removed the rings. He slipped the silver wedding band back onto her left hand and held up the promise ring. "You don't remember your promise, but you've never broken it," he said. "You promised you'd come back to me - and so you have."

"What did you promise me?" she asked.

"That I'd never leave you."

He slipped the wooden ring around her finger and smiled as he felt Lizzie's presence come to life once again inside his mind.

_[Can you hear me?]_

She gasped, surprised at the voice that rang through her mind as clear as day. _ [Yes, I can.]_

He leaned over and kissed her. _[Good, because we have unfinished business to attend to.] _He picked her up, trailing kisses down her neck and carried her over to the bedroll stretched out on the floor, unlacing the back of her dress at the same time.

Lizzie grinned. _ [You seem to have had a lot of practice at this.]_

Fred lay her down and hovered over her, his sapphire eyes meeting hers.

_[Let me show you just how much practice I've had.] _

...

* * *

_A/N: I admit to stealing the idea of the villagers locked in the burning building from "The Patriot". I kept thinking when they didn't find anyone that they'd all be hiding somewhere in the woods. The idea of locking them in the church and then setting it on fire has always stuck with me as one of the most evil things anyone could ever do._

_Last but not least, my original character of Dyvych is affectionately dedicated to all those older women who take us younger one's under their wing and show us what family is all about. My own mom and I are not very close, but there have been a handful of older women who have through the years shown me what being a mother is all about...and to them I am, and ever shall be, profoundly grateful._

_The Review this Chapter button is right there - - - -)_


	10. Tears for Yesterday

"_I am the mess you chose,  
the closet you can not close,  
the devil in you I suppose -  
'cause the wounds never heal._

_But everything changes if I could  
turn back the years,  
if you could learn to forgive me,  
then I could learn to feel..."_

_-Staind_

* * *

Lizzie woke still wrapped in Fred's arms. She sighed contentedly and closed her eyes for another minute, perfectly content. She opened her eyes...no, not quite _perfectly_ content. She moved back far enough to focus on his face in the flickering firelight. He was still sleeping peacefully. It wasn't morning yet, but already the gray sky outside the window was streaked with faint pink clouds. Dawn would be breaking any minute, and morning would take him away from her yet again. Her fingers traced lightly over his brow, down his cheek, and along his jaw, grinning as he stirred slightly but didn't wake. She raised up from his arms and bent over, kissing his lips gently once, then again, and again until she felt him waking and his lips moved gently against hers.

_[What is it with you in the mornings?] _he asked, drowsily.

_[Are you complaining?]_

She felt him smile against her lips. "No." He nuzzled her neck, breathing deeply of her scent-something he had feared he might never experience again and slid his hand down her side.

_[You don't seem t' be wearing much today.] _

_[I can fix that,]_ she teased, moving away from him and reaching for her dress.

He rolled over, pulling her underneath him and pinning her arm down before it touched the article of clothing in question with a speed that took her breath away. "I don't think so."

Lizzie glanced at the window. The sky was light outside now. "You're gonna be late."

"That's okay," he said. _ [I'll just blame it on you,] _he thought as he kissed her deeply.

Lizzie tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him even closer. _ [You're terrible.]_

_[You married me.]_

Time passed.

* * *

Fred tossed Lizzie her cloak as they got ready to leave. "Go ahead, I'll catch up."

She felt oddly that he was hiding something from her. "That's okay, I'll wait for you."

His eyes met hers and held them for a moment before walking silently over to his pack and removing something that Lizzie couldn't see. He knelt down and she saw what he'd taken from his pack. It was a knife, but not an ordinary knife, it was a huge hunting knife with a blade that had to be at least ten inches long. He stuck the sheath of it into his boot, fastened the top of it around his calf, and pulled his thick leather pants down concealing it. She'd never seen him carry anything outside of his sword. The understanding of where he was going and what he was going to do rolled over her like a black storm and left her shaken.

_[I'm sorry, Lizzie. Just think of it as insurance.]_

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. That wasn't it's purpose, and he couldn't hide the truth of it from his mind – nor from hers anymore. _ [Don't tell me that. Tell me the truth, or tell me nothing.]_

He came back to her and took her by the shoulders. "I'm not going there for revenge, Lizzie, I swear to you, but I will do anything and everything it takes to protect you and my child."

She couldn't remember anything about Iracebeth from before, but she felt the depth of emotion the woman stirred inside him, and she knew it was a long and bitter past. She put her arms around him tightly and he held her for a moment.

"I love you, Lizzie. No matter what happens, please never forget that."

"I know, Freddie. I love you, too."

* * *

Fred and Lizzie joined the others waiting in the square. The mood this morning was somber with half of the village leaving again. Fred's group was already mounted and waiting on him.

"I guess I'd better go," he said, turning towards Lizzie.

She took his face in her hands. "Please be careful."

He hugged her tightly to himself. "I will, I promise." His attention was caught by the other women who were watching them and beginning to whisper amongst themselves. _ [I think you'll be too busy explaining this to worry about me.]_

_[Explaining what?]_

He took her face in his hands and kissed her soundly. "That. Be back before you know it," he grinned, before releasing her and joining the others.

* * *

Fred's band of clansmen numbered twenty-five, counting himself. It was a bleak morning, the sky overcast with thick clouds that promised more snow as the day wore on. Below them, the ground reflected the dull sky so that it seemed to be neither day nor night, the gray nothingness stretching out in every direction. He focused his mind on the fortress, willing himself not to lead the men astray. He'd never wanted to be a leader, and yet he found himself here, before a ragged band of farmers turned soldiers pressing their way across the frozen plains of the Outlands. As he rode, his thoughts turned to brighter memories; the Crimson Sea on a summer night and the breeze that blew over the water, leaving the taste of salt on your tongue; the mountain top in the Outlands at sunset, the clouds stretching as far as the eye could see, weaving amongst themselves in brilliant hues of purple and pink; the sounds of the forest at night, full of hidden life. Of all those thoughts, none came without the thought of _her_ by his side. Lizzie, his love, his life - who had saved him from himself when he was lost in the darkness of his past, and now a child who by all rights he should never have been able to father. For them – for _their_ future, he would do whatever he had to do. He had told Lizzie the truth when he'd said he wasn't seeking revenge. The pain that had once blinded him had been swept away and healed, and though there were scars, both visible and not, that would always bear the memories, it was love for his wife and child that drove him today.

_[Can you still hear me?] _ Lizzie's voice rang through his mind.

_[Yes.]_

_[What have you been thinking about? You're all happy and sad at the same time.]_

_[Remembering better times. I just wish this was all over with. I want to go home.] _ The wind dried his tears before they even left his eyes.

_[It won't be long. Somehow, someway, everything will work out.]_

_[I hope so. We're almost there. I'll need to concentrate, so I'll have to stop talking.]_

_[Okay, be careful.]_

_[I will.] _

With so few guards at the castle, Fred had the men ride their horses through the wood until they were within sight of the fortress. Here they dismounted and he led them up to the tree-line behind the castle. He cast outward with his mind, towards the courtyard and beyond - inside the walls. He traced the faint thoughts of the soldiers through the keep and inner courtyard, trying to keep track of the number as he went. He counted eighteen. Only one was stationed on the ramparts. The rest seemed to be gathered mostly around the main gate, which was fine. He didn't plan on using the front door. The barracks abutted the fortress proper at the rear. Fred looked up at the wall they were directly behind. The roof was low enough to be easily gained here, but they would have to take out the guard on the ramparts to have any chance of stealth at all.

"There's one guard on the wall," he told the men.

A man who'd brought a crossbow volunteered. "Where's he at? I'll need to get a clean shot."

Fred grimaced, keenly aware that he was about to facilitate someone's death. How he wished Illynyr was here instead.

Sensing Freddie's hesitation, one of the older men laid his hand on his shoulder and stepped close to him, speaking soft enough for only him to hear. "'Tis nay easy, lad, t' hold men's lives 'n yer hands," he said. "Th' men who swore themselves to th' Nor' did so o' their own free will. Th' armies march across Underland, but here t'day - mayhaps a twig can stem th' flood."

Fred nodded and took a deep breath. He thought of Iracebeth's army, marching towards Marmoreal. If there was a chance they could stop it here today, it had to be taken.

"Around to the left side, stop by the big twilla tree and you should be able to see him."

The man nodded and disappeared into the woods. Several minutes passed and then the subtle click of a crossbow echoed through the valley. Fred waited until the man returned before motioning the others up onto the roof of the barracks. Quickly they ran across the top and hoisted themselves over the battlements and onto the top of the fortress wall.

"Iracebeth is in the keep," he said. "If we can get in quietly, without alerting the rest of the soldiers, we'll have an easier time defending ourselves. There's not more than twenty soldiers in the whole fortress."

"There's a door on th' rear, if we can keep th' yard cleared o' soldiers, I think we'll be able t' take it easy," said Gareth.

"I agree," said Fred. "There are seven of us with bows, so three can go on each side. We'll need one to come up with us in case with need it for th' bird." Fred split them into two parties and sent one around to the ramparts on the far side. He turned to the others. "Let's get the ropes and get down there."

The men had brought ropes with them which they now fastened to the battlements and scaled down the wall into the inner courtyard. They saw no one as they drew their swords and crossed to the base of the stone keep tower. Fred motioned them to stop outside the closed door. Mentally he searched the other side and found nothing was as easy as it seemed.

"There are five or six on the other side."

They looked around at each other. "Well," said one of them, "We aren't gettin' anywhere standin' outside th' door."

Fred slowly turned the handle. It was unlocked. "On three," he whispered. "One...two...three." He threw open the door of the keep and nearly had his head taken off by a huntsmen who'd been waiting behind the door. Fred brought his sword up to defend himself while trying to move out of the doorway so that the others could come in. His sword rang out against the huntsman's again as he fought for a better angle. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that three more of his men were engaged with the soldiers. He looked in vain for any weakness he could exploit in the huntsman he was fighting, but the man was larger than himself and obviously well trained. Fred wasn't a bad swordsman, but he was at a disadvantage with the short sword he still carried from the guard when he and Lizzie had escaped. He noticed his opponent was getting very close to his fellow huntsman who was fighting behind him. Fred lunged at him the best he could and the man bumped into the soldier behind him, loosing his concentration on Freddie for a split second. It was the break Fred had been waiting for and he plunged his sword into the huntsman. He left it there and picked up the long sword the huntsman wouldn't be needing anymore. The others seemed to have overpowered the soldiers who had been in the lower level of the keep, but now reinforcements were arriving. Fred's next opponent wasn't as talented as his first and he dispatched him rapidly. He did a quick count of dead or dying soldiers. There were six huntsmen and three of their men who hadn't made it – a heavy toll on the small group, though they still outnumbered the north. There was a lull now, those who'd come in to reinforce the others must have been in the keep itself, not from any other part of the fortress. He didn't sense anyone else except Iracebeth and one guard on the upper level. He left ten of his men in the lower keep level to stand watch for more soldiers and he and the remaining five headed up the stairs to the throne room. The guard outside the door didn't have time to make a sound before they dispatched him.

Freddie turned to the others. "Find the heart. Leave Iracebeth to me."

_[Lizzie, I'm going to take off my promise ring until after I find Iracebeth. I'd rather talk about it later.]_

He felt her confusion and concern, but she didn't argue with him. _[If you need to...]_

He slid the ring off his finger and slipped it into his pocket before he opened the door and led the men in, down the black carpet leading up to the throne.

Iracebeth was startled by the sudden appearance of Freddie, most certainly _not_ a prisoner this time, leading a small band of farmers into the throne room.

"Guards!" she shouted. "Guards! Get in here this instant!"

Freddie smirked at her. "Sorry, Your Majesty, they couldn't make it."

Iracebeth got up and moved behind the throne, putting it between herself and the red haired man walking purposefully towards her. "Stop!" she cried. "Freddie, wait, just stop!"

"I've come a long way, why don't we have a little chat first?"

Iracebeth turned and ran and Fred ran up the stairs and after her down the hallway behind the throne room. She turned into a narrow staircase, barely wide enough for one person, and climbed the stairs, disappearing around a corner.

Fred followed her up, paying no heed to the alarms in his head as he turned the blind corner at the top to find himself alone in a room no larger than a walk in closet. The door slammed shut behind him, and he realized he'd made a serious lapse in judgment. Just because Racie wasn't carrying a weapon didn't mean she was unarmed. He turned around in time to get a face full of spray from the atomizer in her hand. His vision swam and he fell to the floor.

Iracebeth took two lengths of rope from the table in the room and knelt down beside him.

"Don't worry, Freddie, it only lasts for a minute."

True to her word, the paralysis only lasted about five minutes, but by that time she'd already bound his hands and feet. She watched him with a bemused expression as he struggled to get up and finally managed to kneel in front of her.

What the hell had he been thinking? Surely he knew her well enough not to run blindly after her. He struggled against the rope, but she'd done her knots properly.

"What did you think?" she asked. "I'd let you run me through?" She picked up the blood-stained sword and chucked it out the window.

"That wouldn't have happened if you'd surrendered," he seethed.

"Well it's not happening now, either."

Iracebeth knelt in front of him, studying his face. She'd changed her appearance since she'd been the Red Queen, and though he'd seen her when he'd come to find Lizzie, he'd hardly paid it notice then - now he did. She looked so much like she did when she was younger, with her head a normal size and her crimson hair flowing in curls down her shoulders. She wore no makeup. It reminded him of her _before_ – before she'd succumbed to the madness that had infected her mind, when she'd been the closest friend he'd had. It had been easier to face her when she'd been the Red Queen, when she'd looked nothing like the girl who had betrayed him so long ago.

"Poor Freddie...you know, it didn't have to be this way." Her fingers traced his cheek gently for a moment, but her voice became harsh, "But you're_ too...DAMN...STUBBORN_!" She slapped him hard across his face.

Fred grimaced at the taste of blood in his mouth. "Racie, if you're going to kill me, just do it and spare me the theatrics."

She smiled coldly, and quashed the brief flicker of pain that always came with seeing him again. He and Mirana were the only one's who still dared to call her by her old name and hearing it brought back memories that she had no use for anymore.

"Oh, I'm not done with you, yet. First, I want to show you something." She stood and walked over to a shelf behind her. As soon as her back was turned, two mice who'd been watching from the rafters scurried across the boards and dropped down onto Fred's shoulder.

"Be still and we'll get you free," one whispered timidly before they scurried down his back, one setting to work on the rope binding his hands, one his feet. Fred had never had much personal experience with other creatures outside of those at Marmoreal and sketching them in their habitat, but he wasn't about to complain.

Iracebeth took down a small box and turned back around towards Fred. She took out a large crystal and set it on the floor in front of him. A faint greenish light glowed from within the stone.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked him.

"Enlighten me."

"It's your wife's memories. Everything is here, perfectly preserved. I have to say, it worked quite well, though I should have locked the bitch up instead of letting her roam around," she mused. "One of the ravens brought me word of what happened in Southern yesterday. A very clever trick. Was it your idea, Freddie, or perhaps that bright eyed boy that they follow around like little puppies?" Fred didn't answer. "No matter, we'll go back for them later. Perhaps in about five months or so." She drew a small dagger from another fold of her dress and toyed with it. Her eyes met Fred's. "I'm sure the child will ripe enough to pluck from it's mother's womb by then."

His face flushed with anger, but nothing she said surprised him anymore. "There was a time when I trusted you," he said quietly. "Before you made it your life's mission to torture me. Do you remember, Racie? There was a time when you were happy."

"Don't get all gushy on me, Freddie. That person is dead and if she stood before me today, I'd slit her throat and put her out of her misery."

Her words mocked him, but underneath Fred felt a thread of doubt creep through her. He pushed on. "I remember a time when you wanted to know what it felt to fly, so we snuck some upelkuchen out of the kitchen and smeared it with honey and waited until a butterfly came and tasted it."

Iracebeth's eyes gazed through him, focused on the memory, as the madness briefly cleared. "You forgot the pishsalver to make him small again, though," she whispered.

"You're right, I did. Do you remember, Racie? You were happy once...you could be happy again. It's not too late to stop this." She stared at him for a moment, but he could tell the magic was over. The black beast that preyed on her soul once again filled her mind.

"Do you know what memories are good for, Freddie?" she asked softly.

"What?"

Swiftly she grabbed the iron doorstop that sat against the wall near her and brought it down, smashing the green crystal. "Nothing." She closed the distance between himself and her, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. Her right hand traced along his neck with the dagger leaving a thin line of blood in it's wake. "I will give you a promise, though, before I send you on your way," she murmured. "I swear to you, your child will live or die by my hand."

As the point of the knife stopped just above his jugular, he felt the rope around his feet and then his arms go slack. He grabbed her right wrist, twisting it viciously until she screamed and dropped the blade. She fought him like a wild animal, clawing at him with razor sharp nails until he managed to push her backwards, tackling her and capturing her other wrist as well. He pinned her to the floor, holding her body down with his as he sat astride her. Their eyes met and time stood still as he hovered mere inches above her. The irony of their positions didn't escape Iracebeth's notice.

"Are you gonna' kiss me or kill me, Freddie?"

He passed her left wrist to his other hand, freeing his right hand to unbuckle the hunting knife he'd stashed in his boot that morning. Her eyes grew large as he drew the blade.

"There was a time, believe it or not Racie, when I might have picked the first one. But, like you said – I was just a boy, and that girl is dead."

"You won't kill me," she whispered, "you can't do it. Not _you_."

His eyes never left hers. "Today I can."

The knife found its mark and he slid it slowly, gently, like a man entering his lover underneath her sternum and up towards her heart. She closed her eyes.

Freddie leaned over her, his lips whispering softly in her ear. "Open your eyes, Racie...I wouldn't want you to miss anything."

She gasped and her breath caught in her throat as she looked at him, bewildered. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth and down her neck, staining her hair an even darker shade of red. He felt her mind clear once again of the madness, leaving her shaken and afraid. Her eyes filled with tears as the memories of all she'd done to him came flooding back. She choked on her lifeblood as she tried to talk.

"F..r...ed..die, I...I'm...ss...orrr..."

He pulled the knife out and cast it away, his tears falling on her face as he closed her eyes. Before all that she had done to him - had planned to do to him and to his family, before the madness had stolen her mind so long ago - she'd been his best friend, his confidant...a sister to him. Now in death, her mind freed from the prison that had so captivated it in life, he found that he could finally grieve for what he had lost, and for what she herself had lost so unwittingly. He climbed off of her and took her in his arms, smoothing the crimson hair from her face.

"Be at peace, Racie," he wept. "Please be at peace."


	11. The Golden Horn

"_The sweet smell of a great sorrow lies over the land.  
Plumes of smoke rise and merge into the leaden sky:  
a man lies and dreams of green fields and rivers,  
but awakes to a morning with no reason for waking."_

_-Pink Floyd_

* * *

After a few more minutes, Fred lay Iracebeth's body gently on the floor, keenly aware that a part of his life was now closed forever. He shut the door softly behind him leaving her alone in the small room where Stayne who, fortuitously for him happened to not be at there during the siege, found her later that day.

The raven still sat in the rafters, but the men knelt beside the throne, their attention focused on the floor instead. Several looked up as Fred approached them.

"I'd ask if that was yer blood, but I don't think ya'd be standin' if' it was," said Gareth.

He ignored the comment, unwilling to look down at himself. "Did you get it?"

"Aye, an not a whit of th' trouble we'd thought," said the man. "We just dangled a nice shiny coin fer 'im an' he dropped th' bag right down."

Fred looked up at the bird and this time noticed that it indeed had something shiny in its beak. "Good work." They made room for him as he, too, knelt and watched the bewitched heart as it pulsed lazily, twitching against the hard floor.

"What do we do with it?" asked one of the men.

"Stab it I s'pose," said another. "Though I'd bet m' soul it's cursed."

Fred held out his hand. "Someone give me a knife." A knife found it's way into his hand and he brought it down, nearly cleaving the heart in two.

Immediately a vision flashed before his eyes: _He was walking through the ranks of the Army of the Dead. A feeling of power, blinding and intoxicating, passed through him as their unseeing eyes and unthinking minds focused solely upon himself, awaiting his command. The vision shifted and he was walking through the snow while a rider on a pale horse strove to overtake him._

The illusion ended and he looked around at the men, but their attention was not on him, but what had appeared the instant he had stabbed the heart. Around his own neck hung Remenhal's golden hunting horn.

* * *

They made camp just inside the forest that night. Fred sat apart from them, weighing his options . He watched the firelight as it flickered across the object still slung around his shoulder. It was hard to comprehend how something so benign could be the cause of so much destruction. He thought about his vision and indeed he felt called to something, to a purpose beyond what his heart longed for. All he wanted was to go home, to hold his wife and to see his child someday, but now that wish seemed so far out of reach. As much as he would like to ride to the shoreline of the Crimson Sea and chuck the horn out into the deeps, he knew he could not. Knowledge of its power and usage had been imprinted on his mind the moment he'd killed it's previous owner and taken possession of it. He was bound to it, and if he was to cast it away, his life would be forfeit. He feared he would never set foot in Southern Outland again.

His ring was still in his pocket – he'd wanted to think about what had to be done without Lizzie hearing him (and summarily riding off after him). He tucked his plans into the smallest, darkest corner of his mind, fished out his promise ring, took a deep breath, and slipped it back onto his finger. He cringed as his mind met hers – Lizzie's patience had run out long ago.

_[What the hell is going on? You said after you find Iracebeth, that was over seven hours ago! I was worried!]_

_[I'm sorry, Lizzie, I am...I swear. I just got caught up in everything happening.]_

_[So...? What happened?]_

_[Iracebeth's dead. We got the heart and Remenhal's dead, too...unless he can live without it.]_

_[That's good, two birds with one stone. Neither army has a leader now.] _ She felt a twinge of something in his mind at that. Something that disappeared as quickly as it appeared, leaving her to wonder if she was imagining things.

_[Well, the Army of the North is being led by someone else because Remenhal would have had to be with Iracebeth's army. They won't know that he and Iracebeth are dead. I'm sure they're still riding towards Marmoreal, which means I still need to leave from here tonight.]_

_[There's something you're not telling me.]_

_[...It's nothing...important.]_

_[Frederick Hightopp, don't you dare lie to me! What's wrong?]_

He sighed. Sure, he'd skirted the facts a few times, but he'd never lied to her before. _[I ran into a little snag when I stabbed Remenhal's heart.]_

_[What do you mean, a snag?]_

_[Apparently I inherited the horn that controls the Army of the Dead.]_

He felt her pulse race. _[Get rid of it!]_

_[Don't worry, I have every intention of destroying the damn thing.] _He hesitated, not knowing whether he would be able to talk to her again later or not._ [Lizzie, I want you to know I meant what I said this morning about protecting my family. Whatever happens, please remember that. The snow's let up. I need to leave.]_

_[Freddie...]_

_[Yeah?]_

_[Please don't do anything stupid.]_

_[...] _He removed the ring once again, Lizzie's parting advice ringing in his mind. He supposed in the end, stupid would have to be in the eye of the beholder.

* * *

Lizzie stared at the fire flickering before her, replaying Freddie's cryptic remarks and trying to read between the lines. He'd been hiding something, something so far down inside of him that she couldn't make it out. She could feel it though. He'd stabbed the heart, killing Remenhal and had somehow ended up with the horn. Why for the life of him hadn't he already gotten rid of it? No, something wasn't right, and the more she thought about it, the more worried she became.

* * *

Fred made sure the other men knew to head back to Southern in the morning and then found his horse and rode off towards the door that led from Northern Outland to the Forest of Crims. The door was unguarded and he dismounted and opened it for the horse. Even riding at full speed across the still sparsely vegetated land, it took nearly three hours to reach the next door which led to the clearing in the Tulgey Wood just west of the road to Marmoreal. He wished he had ridden his stallion's mate, the white mare Llewyn, instead. She had to be the fastest horse in Underland, her speed and surefootedness almost magical, but he had been afraid the other men might not have been able to follow her in the snow. Time seemed to be making up for it's slower pace over recent days by speeding up overnight and pink clouds streaked the sky just after he reached the second door. He drew his sword, not knowing if the door would be guarded or not, and opened it.

The clearing was deserted. The tea tables still sat in their places, crookedly as always, but the white tablecloths and stacks of dishes were gone. It seemed a desolate place without the raucous laughter of Thackery or saucy comments of Mallymkun, not to mention the flying scones and teacups. Freddie sighed sadly, thinking wistfully of lazy summer days that seemed as far away as Elphyne at the moment.

Elphyne... his mind swirled the name about. He stopped and turned, glancing backwards at the door he'd just come through, a thoughtful look on his face, before continuing on the road to Marmoreal.

Half an hour later, he crested the last hill overlooking the white castle and stopped - in fact, he nearly fell off his horse. It was his vision, but at the same time, not. Around the outer walls, instead of where the moat should be, burned a ring of fire. Outside of this fire, surrounding Marmoreal, the Army of the Dead stood in siege.

Freddie slid from the back of his horse and led him forward, towards the front gate which was closed. He hoped someone was watching for him.

The stallion tossed his mane fearfully and spoke. "I dare not go forth through the soulless one's. They will slay us both before we reach the castle."

Freddie turned and smoothed the horse's ebony mane. "Under normal circumstances I would heartily agree, Ulyngar, but unfortunately today has been far from normal. They won't touch me, and you're under my protection. Would you rather I ride instead of walk?"

The horse snorted his disapproval of both choices. "If we are to cross through them, I would prefer you ride."

Fred climbed back onto Ulyngar and together they approached the army slowly. He could see that the fires held them back, but still every one of them was poised to fight. They were unflagging, untiring – they would stay until the inhabitants of Marmoreal eventually starved or fought for freedom...or until they were ordered to stand down. The horn didn't allow for many commands – the dead soldiers were like a light switch, either 'on' or 'off'. As they neared, Freddie lifted the horn to his lips and blew the command. Immediately the ragged soldiers stopped, like a toy whose batteries had run out, and lowered their weapons. Their eyes turned towards him and he felt something strange stir within him. He didn't meet their eyes.

Chess appeared above him – far away from the now neutralized soldiers' reach.

"It's never dull when you're around, Freddie," he purred, "Where the bloody hell did you get that horn?"

Fred sighed, why couldn't anyone just take things for face value without knowing the story behind it? "I stabbed Remenhal's heart an' won a prize," he said dully.

"Don't you know not to play with enchantments by now? You should have thrown it into the sea."

"I can't."

"Not the horn, you idiot, the heart. Then the horn wouldn't have had an owner to go to."

In his haste to dispatch the clan leader, Fred had never even thought of that. Hindsight was always 20/20, he thought ruefully. "There's not much I can do about that now. Sorry to disappoint you, cat."

Chess flashed him a dangerously toothy grimace at the subtle insult. "What's done is done. Will they stay put?" He motioned to the army.

Fred shrugged. "As far as I can tell."

"Fine then, I'll let Mirana know. She'll have to order them to lower the gate. Apparently I'm not _that_ important around here." His eyes flashed with chagrin and then he was gone.

Fred waited impatiently, unwilling to look around him at the faces of the soldiers. Eventually he heard the gears groan as the gate was slowly lowered to the ground. Ulyngar needed no urging to ride inside the protection of Marmoreal's walls. Fred dismounted outside the inner gate and sprinted through it and the inner courtyard to the stairs of the castle proper. Mirana met him just inside and uncharacteristically threw her arms around him.

"Freddie, thank goodness you're alright. The last news we had was that you were on your way to Iracebeth's fortress. An owl brought us word that the men from Southern Outland had left for home, but that you weren't among them. We didn't know what to think."

Fred patted her gently on the back, unused to physical closeness with the queen, no matter how chummy they were otherwise. Mirana had never been a 'touchy-feeling' person. After a few seconds, she seemed to remember herself and stepped back from him.

He flashed her a roguish smile. "You know me, Miri...I'm a loner...a crazy, wild eyed loner..."

"No," she smiled knowingly, "you're not. Not anymore. How is Lizzie?"

She didn't miss the dark look that crossed his face, however briefly. "She's fine."

"What's wrong?"

He fidgeted, he had other news to tell her, and he was afraid she would think the two were related. "We need to go someplace else to talk. Not the kitchen this time."

His eyes met hers and Mirana knew him well enough to know she wouldn't like whatever it was he had to say. She found her hands were clammy and slightly shaky as she nodded and led him through a back passageway to her own chambers.

Freddie looked around nervously. He'd been there only once, and that was to move some wretched piece of furniture for her. She shut the door behind them with a finality that only seemed to seal his fate.

"What is it you need to tell me, Freddie?"

"I don't want you think wrongly of my intentions today. I have...there are things...no...I'm sorry, Mirana, I don't know how to tell you other than to just say it. Racie is dead. I'm sorry."

He searched her mind, waiting for her reaction, fearful she would think he'd gone up North in a fit of rage and murdered her sister in retribution for what she'd done to Lizzie. The white queen only stared at him, speechless.

"By whose hand?" she asked quietly.

He looked down, away from her piercing gaze. "Mine."

He felt it then, churning inside of her, burning, crippling anguish and...fury. He didn't know if he'd ever seen her angry, usually she was the mistress of suppressing emotions or would dismiss herself rapidly before it could escalate to what he could feel. Now suddenly she flew at him, a violent, white storm of wrath.

"You bastard!" she screamed. "How could you? You've always wanted her dead, ever since you left that day when you were just a kid! Now you've finally done it! Are you happy now?" She pummeled him, beat against him with fists that had surprising force behind them.

Freddie stood and took it all, making no attempt to stave her off or block the blows that struck him. He was sure part of it was a long time coming, built up through decades of him drifting in and out of people's lives, at least until Lizzie had nailed him to the floor, so to speak. Finally he felt her calming...or tiring, it was actually a bit hard to tell. He caught her by the shoulders, and she collapsed against him, sobbing.

"I'm so sorry, Mirana, it wasn't like that, I swear. It wasn't revenge, it just _was_. She was like a sister to me once, the same as you. I'd give anything to bring her back – the way she used to be when we were young. Please believe me."

Mirana looked up, surprised to find his eyes filled with tears and a weariness that seemed to age him beyond what time itself had done. She'd never seen him so...unlike himself, and she knew then, whatever had happened, he spoke the truth. She backed away but took his hands in hers. "Forgive me, Freddie. I'm...just... Did I hurt you?"

He shook his head. "There's nothing to forgive. I'm sure I had it coming anyway." He released her hands with a sigh. "There's something else as well. The Army of the North rides towards you. If fact I'm surprised they aren't here yet."

She schooled her features and turned back to the business of being the White Queen. "Yes, we know. The birds have been arriving by the flock to warn us of them. Fortunately it seems they lost a day squabbling after their leader took his life. Tarrant and Alice have gone to rally Snud and Queast to our aid, though I don't know how much it will help. After...after Iracebeth was exiled, the White Army was largely disbanded, and the farmers from surrounding provinces won't be nearly enough to take up the slack. We'll be lucky to mount a force of more than three or four hundred, and most not as well trained as the mercenaries."

He frowned, though he had guessed as much. "I think I have an answer for that."

"What do you mean?"

He brought the horn around from where it hid beneath his cloak.

Mirana glanced at it and then back up at him. "Chess told me about the horn. You're thinking you can make them attack the huntsmen."

"I know I can do _that_, the trick will be getting the huntsmen to fight them knowing full well that they can't beat them.

She smiled. "What if they didn't know they weren't on their side? What if they thought they were only fighting us...and Snud and Queast?"

A tentative smile lit his face. "What do you have in mind?"

"Have your army...

Freddie cringed. "...please don't call it that," he whispered.

"Sorry. The ._.other_ army...have them stand down until the huntsmen are engaged with fighting our troops. Then call them to fight and we'll stand aside."

He thought it over. "I think it would work. Our men would need to do considerably more than 'stand aside', though. They won't discriminate between good and bad – it's kind of fight or don't fight."

"Right."

"How far out are the huntsmen?"

"Not far. We expect them by nightfall. Tarrant should be here shortly and Alice's group by evening." As constrained for time as they were, she was concerned that Freddie might not make it that far. "I'll let them know the plans. You need to rest for a while...and don't tell me you're fine."

Freddie smirked at the dismissal, but sighed. "No rest for the weary, Miri. I'll find you later." He turned and left her quarters and wandered aimlessly for a while until he found himself outside the spare room he used when he needed to stay over at Marmoreal. He entered the room and lay down on the bed. Mirana's plan was good and it took one worry off his mind – only to bring others to the forefront. An hour ticked by as he thought about how to do what must be done.

"Chess..," he called. "Chess, I need to talk to you."

A few seconds later a wisp of purple smoke swirled around the bed as the cat materialized beside it. "I'm not your counselor," he replied flatly.

Fred ignored him, but sat up. "I have a favor to ask you."

"I don't recall owing you one."

"Please, Chess, I'm not in the mood for this. I'll owe _you_ one."

The cat regarded him impatiently. "What is it?"

"Remember the door east of Marmoreal that used to lead to the Hill? Iracebeth enchanted the one at the Hill to lead to Elphyne. Where does the door in Marmoreal lead to now?"

The cat looked perplexed. "I'm not sure."

"Can you check for me? You can pop in and out of anywhere, Chess. Can you go through and see for me?"

"Why?" he asked, curious.

Freddie shook his head. "Find out first."

Chess bristled, but his curiosity had always been his weakness and Freddie knew it. "Fine." He disappeared only to return less than a minute later.

"So?" Freddie asked him.

"It doesn't go anywhere," he said, confused. "It's just...nothing."

"What exactly do you mean by "nothing."? Could someone walk through it?"

"Er...yes, I suppose someone could walk through it if they wanted." Chess was thoroughly confused, not an emotion he was very familiar with. "They'd never come out, though."

Fred's eyes took on a far away look and he said solemnly, "Okay Chess, thanks. I owe you one." Then he lay back down on the bed and stared at the rafters.

"You owe me an explanation," complained the cat. "I'm waiting..."

Fred didn't answer at first and Chess almost thought he was having a vision, but then a tear escaped the corner of his eye as he whispered, "You were right...I should have thrown it in the ocean." He sat up and took a chain from around his neck. "Chess, will you hold on to these for me...until tomorrow? Just in case."

The cat frowned. "What are you up to, Freddie?"

He shook his head. "It's better if you don't know." He took the chain and looped it around Chess's paw. "And don't you dare say anything to Tarrant or Mirana, either. I don't need any distractions."

"I have better things to do than gossip with them," he said flippantly.

He stared the cat down. "That's not good enough. Swear it, Chess."

Chess grimaced darkly. "Fine, Freddie. I swear it." With a last scowl, the cat left him alone.


	12. Lifeline

_A/N: What? No comments on Mirana's unruly behavior towards Freddie? Come on, you're killin' me! :P  
_

_Hope this chapter doesn't get too confusing. It switches back and forth between Lizzie and Fred so you can see how things are playing out in real time._

* * *

_"There are visions, there are memories.  
there are echoes of thundering hooves.  
There are fires, there is laughter,  
there's the sound of a thousand doves.._

_Cascading stars on the slumbering hills -  
they are dancing as far as the sea.  
Riding o'er the land, you can feel its gentle hand  
leading on to its destiny._

_Ride on through the night,  
Ride on.."_

_-Loreena McKennitt_

* * *

Lizzie sat by the window, watching the falling snow. The sun would be setting soon and she could hardly keep her eyes open. She had slept only fitfully the night before, but was determined to stay awake until she heard from Freddie again. The worry that had visited her that morning had now settled in her guts.

She felt useless here, snuggled away in their cozy cabin, not knowing what was happening. Fleetingly, she thought of riding to Marmoreal herself, but she knew that was just foolishness – she didn't even know the way, and she was probably just overreacting.

Her head rested drowsily in the crook of her arm and she missed the purple smoke that began to swirl around the legs of the table and up around her head.

"You look as bad as he does," remarked Chess when he'd materialized.

Lizzie sat up with a start. "Chess! What the hell's going on? Freddie talked to me this morning and told me he was going to Marmoreal and I haven't heard from him since."

"That's probably because he's not wearing these." The cat tossed the chain down on the table in front of her.

She jumped up from the table and picked the chain up with shaking hands. On it were Freddie's wedding band and promise ring – just like hers had been before. "What are you telling me," she cried, "that he's _dead_?"

The cat seemed to waffle a bit, Freddie hadn't sworn him not to tell Lizzie, but he wasn't quite sure what it was he wasn't supposed to tell in the first place. "Um...no, not yet."

"What do you mean, _'not yet'_?" she yelled. "Why did he give you his rings, what's he planning on doing?"

The cat flicked his tail irritably. "I don't know, he wouldn't tell me. He's been acting strange ever since he showed up with that bloody horn."

"The horn? He told me he was going to destroy it!"

"Destroy it?" Chess looked at her like she'd gone crazy. "He can't destroy it, he's bound to it. If he was to so much as let it go...he'd..." He suddenly realized he'd missed the entire point of his conversation with the man and that coming here to talk with Lizzie had been a catastrophic mistake, mind the pun. "I'm sorry, Lizzie, but if he plans on destroying the horn and the Army of the Dead, Underland will be forever in his debt." The cat vanished in a puff of purple smoke, leaving her alone.

* * *

Fred left the castle and wandered through the inner courtyard. His fingers brushed the trunk of one of the apple trees as he passed by it, feeling the roughness of the bark and remembering a night filled with light and blossoms. There were no lanterns lighting Marmoreal tonight and the branches were stark and bleak with winter. He didn't want to go through the main gate, didn't want to do what had to be done, but he knew it was unavoidable and his feet took him there before his mind had settled on a direction. The oil fires burning in the moat lit up the gray clouds above and reflected off the snow, bathing the area around Marmoreal in an eerie eternal daylight. The dead stood unmoving, like broken husks of grain, forgotten by the thresher.

He had to walk through them to get to the outside and as much as it terrified him, he forced himself to raise his eyes and look at the ones he so unenthusiastically now commanded. He'd called them an army - called them soldiers, but his heart ached for what they truly were. These men and women in ragged grave clothes were all that was left of _his_ past, _his_ family, _his _clan - their bodies called back for this macabre service while their souls, unaware, slumbered peacefully still. He was wretchedly afraid he would see someone he recognized. After the battle, he would do what must be done to set things right - not only with the instrument that called them from the grave – but for the dead of Iplam and Witzend as well.

* * *

Lizzie fingered the rings absently, wondering what she should do. Without their connection, she had no hope of finding him at all, no clue as to what he was doing or planned to do, but there was no way she was was going to sit here waiting for someone to come and tell her her husband was dead. No one in the village would be able to help her, in fact there was only one she knew might have the power to find him and show her the way. She slipped the chain around her neck and lay down on the bed. As exhausted as she was, an hour passed before her mind stopped it's anxious waiting and relaxed enough for sleep to come.

* * *

It was after midnight when they saw the first torches of the huntsmen burning brightly on the plains of Snud. They spread out across the horizon like a false sunrise or, to Fred, like a distant city with it's streetlights reflecting off the clouds in a warm glow. He took his place at the rear, his hands sweaty as they felt nervously for the horn around his neck.

* * *

Lizzie sank deeper into sleep and finally found herself where she wanted to be – running down the valley towards the only hope she had. It had always been peaceful in the dream, the crystal palace gleaming brightly. Now as she ran towards it, the sky seemed to reflect her own emotions. The clouds rolled in black waves obscuring the sun and the wind whipped her dress fitfully around her ankles. She crawled through the entrance, almost afraid the child would be gone, but he was there and his eyes met hers immediately. Something was wrong with him as well, and she realized that the storm around the palace was not reflecting her own distress, but his. _He knew_

.

Glass littered the translucent floor. Carefully, she picked her way around the shards until she knelt next to him. She took his hands, so small and cold, in hers.

"I have to find your father," she said, "but I can't. I don't have the gift that you and he share. Can you help me?"

_[I can't find him, either.] _The small voice in her mind sounded so defeated, so lost, it brought tears to her eyes.

"Is there any way at all?"

_[Yes, but...] _Tears rolled down his face. "I'm scared," he whispered. It was the first time she'd actually heard him speak.

She wrapped her arms around his little body and drew him close. "I know you must be. I wish there was some way I could help you."

"Will you stay with me? If you stay, it won't be so scary."

She smiled down at him. "I'll stay as long as you need me to."

He stood back from her, took her hands again and placed his forehead against hers. _[Close your eyes.]_

She closed her eyes and waited. The wind became stronger and stronger outside the palace until it keened through the crevices as though a cyclone bore down upon them. She tried to relax and concentrate on the child and felt his mind and hers touch. As they did, the sound of exploding glass erupted around them as the storm swallowed them – mother and child together. Lizzie held fast to their tenuous bond, never daring to open her eyes. She brought the cloak she was wearing up around his shoulders, sheltering them the best she could. The earth, the whole of Underland seemed to move underneath and above her and she suddenly felt _it_ – the entire realm - join with their minds as though it were an encyclopedia to be used for it's knowledge. She felt the child searching for his father. She thought about Marmoreal where he should be and he took her cue and narrowed his search until finally, he found him.

Like a bird, soaring high overhead she saw the armies meet each other, the huntsmen toppling from their horses as the dead soldiers made they charged. The vision switched and swooped down upon a lone figure at dawn, trudging wearily through the snow towards what Lizzie could see was a door - and she knew it was a door to nowhere, a door to death. Behind Freddie followed the Army of the Dead.

[_How do we find him?] _she asked.

At once, as upon her command, the path raced backwards, away from her husband, past Marmoreal, through a door, through the desolate plains of Iplam, through another door and finally back to her cabin until she beheld herself, sleeping on her bed.

The connection broke then and she was back in the palace, which was once more as she had always remembered it. The sun shone through the crystals.

_[We found him]_ said the child, smiling.

She kissed his cheek. _ [Thanks to you. I have to wake up now...]_

* * *

The men of Snud, Marmoreal, and Queast fanned out in front of the Army of the Dead. The plan had been amended slightly and they would need to be there only as long as it took the Northern Army to charge- themselves retreating past the ranks of the dead to the safety of Marmoreal behind them as Fred sounded the order for dead to attack.

The glow became brighter and closer until he could see the individual torches, bobbing with the riders. Half a mile out, they stopped and Fred knew the order to charge would come any second. A restless shuffle passed through the men who waited. He could hear Tarrant calling them to wait and not run until he gave the order.

Far in the distance, a hunting horn sounded the order.

* * *

It was well after nightfall when Lizzie awoke. She dressed quickly in the warmest clothes she could find- most of which were Freddie's. Fortunately he had extra riding gear for when he had been running patrols so that he would always have a dry set. She threw the riding tunic over her head and pulled his leather pants on and cinched them as tightly as she could. Her own leather boots would do, but she put his leather gloves on as well. She threw her cloak around her shoulders, wishing she had a heavier one, and ran to the stables.

She was surprised to find the white mare, Llewyn, that Freddie usually rode was still there. "Freddie didn't ride you yesterday?"

The mare tossed her head and spoke with a voice surprisingly soft for such a large creature. "No, he was afraid the men wouldn't be able to keep up." A thread of pride wound through her answer. "He took Ulyngar instead. Are you in need of assistance?"

"Yes! I need to get to Marmoreal before dawn."

"Dear, I'm fast - but not _that_ fast I'm afraid."

Lizzie grinned. "Don't worry, I know some shortcuts."

She saddled the mare and was about to leave when she noticed a white cloak hanging on the door, much heavier than her own. She hated to borrow without asking, but tonight was a special circumstance. She threw it around her shoulders and climbed onto the white mare. Together they raced towards the Outland Mountains.

* * *

The Army of the North barreled across the plain, the torches abandoned and instead the fire from Marmoreal's glinted off the swords they'd drawn. They raced closer and closer until at last Tarrant gave the order to retreat. The men from the front lines raced around the Army of the Dead, still standing motionless behind them. He heard the shouts from the huntsmen, who – seeing the men flee – thought they had won the day. Fred waited until their momentum and arrogance carried them through into the midst of the second army. He raised the horn to his lips and sounded the attack.

* * *

At first, Lizzie was worried she might forget the way, having only seen it once in a dream and that going backwards, but her mind emblazoned the path before her like a blue line of lightening, stretching out over the ground into the darkness. She had no idea how such magic could happen, but after the dreams she'd had over the past week, knew better than to question it. On and on through the darkness, the mare sped down the trail through the frozen woods. Eventually they came to the foothills of the mountains and Lizzie directed her towards where they would find the first door. It was strange, being so sure of something she had never seen before (or if she had, she couldn't remember). The blue line of light ended at a face of rock, just below the outline of a door. She climbed off Llewyn's back and almost disbelievingly turned the knob and pulled. The door swung open before her, revealing the flat, snow covered plains of Iplam.

The horse whinnied softly as Lizzie held the door open for her. "That's some shortcut..."

The door closed behind them and they were off again, traveling north to a door that would lead directly to Marmoreal. They were making good time until they came to the door that they needed to use in northern Iplam. The path ended at a point in the middle of nowhere, but there was no door in sight.

* * *

At the sound of the horn, the automatons that were the Army of the Dead sprang to life, and slashed viciously at the unsuspecting huntsmen in their midst. Man and beast alike fell beneath the onslaught, and Fred turned away, unwilling to watch the gruesome, one sided battle. The few huntsmen who had been able to fight their way free retreated into the darkness beyond. It was over well before the dawn. Freddie called the army to stop and climbed down from Ulyngar.

* * *

"I don't understand," said Lizzie. "There should be a door here."

"This land was ravaged many years ago, much that was here before is not."

"Yes, but..." Surely the vision wouldn't have given her a direction to a door that didn't exist anymore. She knelt down where the door should be and dug at the snow. Luckily the wind had swept most of it from the area and it wasn't more than a few inches deep. Her hands hit something hard beneath the snow and she pushed more of it aside, revealing part of what had to be the door. She hurriedly cleared the rest from the top of it. Crouching beside it, she turned the knob and pulled it up and open. The world inside it was skewed. If they were to drop through the door like this, they would surely break their legs.  
"We're going to have to try and raise it."

"I would help if I could see it."

Lizzie tried to raise the top of the door, but could only manage about an inch off the ground. Whatever wood it was made of, it was solid. She looked up at the sky. It was still dark, but the stars were fading and she knew if they didn't raise the door soon, they wouldn't be there in time.

"I wish we'd brought some rope. Would you be able to pull it up if I wrapped the reins around the handle?"

"I can pull it if you can fasten it."

Lizzie took the reins and pulled them over Llewyn's head to the front. She wrapped them tightly around the knob.

"Wait," said the horse. "It won't matter much if I can raise it if we've nothing to brace it against."

"There's nothing here." The plain before them was bare as far as the eye could see.

"How about that drift over there? How deep is the snow?"

Lizzie ran over to the drift and dug into the snow. It was about two feet. "I think it will work if we can lean it up here against it."

The mare dragged the door slowly over to the drift and together, pushing, lifting, and pulling, the two managed to slide it into the trench dug in front. Lizzie packed as much snow behind it as she could until it leaned up precariously on its own. She opened it up just as the first pink clouds of dawn streaked across the gray sky.

_

* * *

A/N: A bit of a short chapter, the next one is short as well, but there's so much going on I didn't want to put the two together._

_So...are ya' nervous, yet? Will Lizzie get there in time? (Well, of course she will, but that's not really the point of the next chapter...insert evil grin here...)_


	13. For Everything, There is a Season

"_These mist covered mountains  
are a home now for me,  
but my home is the lowlands  
and always will be._

_Some day you'll return to  
your valleys and your farms,  
and you'll no longer burn  
to be brothers in arms._

_Now the sun's gone to hell,_  
_and the moon's riding high.  
Let me bid you farewell -  
every man has to die.."_

_-Dire Straits_

* * *

In the pre-dawn light of early morn, Fred walked through the broken bodies that were all that was left of the Army of the North. Most were battle hardened soldiers who he knew would have taken off his head as just as soon not, but scattered among them were younger men, younger than himself. He couldn't help but wonder what they'd been promised to want to ride with a man like Remenhal. Underland had seen so few true wars in it's time, partly because of the geographic distances of the peoples, but also because most shared a common heritage. No one remembered why, when, or how the clans had come to the realm, but in the beginning they had come as one.

The hilt of a sword gleamed in the dying fires from the castle's moat and caught his eye, the illuminated pattern familiar to him. He went over and drew his lost claymore from under a twisted soldier, then unbuckled its scabbard from the body. He discarded the one he wore and girded the sword on himself. He gave a last look around – and stopped.

Beyond him lay a body that was much smaller than the others. He stepped across the debris and knelt beside it. The boy's cloak covered his face and Fred slowly pulled it back, fearing what he might find. What he saw struck him to the core of his being. It was only a child, surely no older than ten or eleven with dark brown hair and a smattering of freckles across his cheeks. He looked peaceful, like he was only sleeping, but his pallor betrayed the truth.

Fred sadly smoothed the damp hair back from the elfin face, remembering the many charges he'd had as Drop Dead Fred that had been the same age as this boy – too young and innocent to hold a sword and fight a war they knew nothing about. His thoughts turned then to his own child and he knew the time had come to do what must be done. He covered the boy's face and stood. Bringing the horn to his lips he commanded the Army of the Dead to follow him and set off across the snow.

* * *

Llewyn with Lizzie raced across the plains and hills of Marmoreal. She couldn't remember if she'd ever been to this part of the region, but the blazoned path stretched out before her as far as her eyes could see. Despite finding nothing yet, she felt they must be getting close. As they crested a slope, the sun rose over the horizon, nearing blinding her as it reflected off the sparkling snow covered ground. They raced faster, a figure draped in a white cloak on a white horse, nearly invisible against the snow.

* * *

Fred was almost to the door when he sensed someone following him. He turned and scanned the horizon but saw nothing, though he knew enough to trust his instincts. He pressed on until he was only a few feet from the doorway – close enough so that no one could stop him from doing what he'd come here to do. Stopping the dead behind him, he turned and waited. Then over the rise, he saw a gleam as the sun reflected off a white horse and rider bearing down on him swiftly. The vision he'd had of a pale horse flashed through his memory, and he drew his sword, unsure of their purpose.

The horse stopped before it reached him, and the claymore dropped from his hands as he noticed the familiar orange of Southern Outland braided into the horse's tack and realized it was Llewyn. The rider, still obscured by the hood of the white cloak, slid from the mare's back and ran towards him.

He knew without seeing that it was Lizzie and he cried out in anguish as she threw her arms about him. If there was one person he would have sheltered from any of this, it would have been her. Why - _how_ was she now here? "Lizzie...what are you doing here?"

She backed away, still holding his arms tightly, afraid he might run through the door at any moment. "I know what you're going to do, but you can't!"

Anger flashed in his eyes. "If Chess went and told you..."

"Chess didn't tell me anything! I saw it for myself."

He recalled the dream she'd had that had saved the village wondered fleetingly if she'd had another. He put his finger gently against her lips and shook his head. "I wish there was, Lizzie, but there's not."

"No!" she cried, shaking him gently. "I can't accept that...I _won't_ accept that! You're here, you're alive...I can't stand by and watch you throw that all away. The war's over, you have a home and me and we're going t' have a baby, and I can't..._I can't._.." Sobs racked her body as she lay her head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat, so strong and sure. She thought of all the weeks she'd waisted, of the lost time she could have been with him if she'd only dared to act on what she'd felt – on the something her heart had yearned for, even though her mind did not remember.

He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair, remembering a day when she'd walked across a canyon with him and he'd sworn to never hurt her again. Now, to protect her, he'd have to break every promise he'd ever made. "That's why I have to do this. Even if we could get rid of the dead behind me, there are others who would kill me for what I'm bound to, and neither of you would be safe. Please, Lizzie, don't ask me to live by putting your life in danger -that's something I'd never do." He stepped back to see her face. "This isn't the Wonderland of the fairy tales, Love - this realm breeds evil along with the good. I'd rather destroy the horn than to wait for someone to run me through for it so they can raise another army."

She shook her head, not wanting to hear his logic. It was as though he was already talking to her from the grave, and her hope that she would be able to change his mind began to dim. "I don't want a hero...I want _you_! We can move where no one lives, we can...," she broke off as her eyes met his.

It tore at his heart to see her like this, to know he was the cause of all her pain, and in his stubbornness took all the credit. _He _had been the one to stab the heart – he had made a rash decision, never thinking of the consequences of his actions. In a single breath, with a single swing of a knife, he'd destroyed his future and condemned his wife to be a widow. He was as dead as the ones who followed him – only warmer. He rested his forehead against hers. "This is the last place I ever longed to be ," he whispered. " All I wanted was to come home to you. You're all I've ever dreamed of and more than I've ever deserved. Never forget how much I love you..." He knelt before her and placed his head against her abdomen, "...or how much I love _you_..." He reached out with his mind towards the child and touched a consciousness that was distinctly male. "...son."

Lizzie knelt down with him, pulled off her gloves, and took the chain with his rings on it from around her neck. She unclasped it and caught them as they dropped into her palm. Finding his left hand, she slid the silver band back on his finger, then took his right hand and slid the wooden ring back in place. The grief she felt as his mind joined with hers was almost more than she could bear, and she knew he'd never be here if there was any other way.

"I'm not going to change your mind, am I?" she whispered.

"I love you far too much to change my mind."

Lizzie threw her arms around him and they clung to each other, their minds joined in a silent communion, deeper even than that of physical love. Neither knew how long they were there, lost together in the wilderness of a frozen world. Time had no meaning, and neither wished to break their bond.

It was Lizzie who finally spoke again, her voice sounding distant to even her own ears.

"Would you...would you tell me something?"

"Anything. What do you want to know?"

She reached up and brushed her hand across his cheek. "Would you tell me a memory, something from before – something that I lost of you and me."

He smiled sadly, one memory between them was like plucking a single grain of dust from the plains of Iplam. "I'll try." There was one that came to mind, because she herself had remembered part of it. "The memory you had, of the apple trees in bloom at Marmoreal, with the lanterns hanging in them – that was just after we'd come to Underland from your world. That was the first time I...well, you were hurt – your wrist," he took her hand and smoothed his fingers over it, and he could see it again, like it was yesterday, "and I...I didn't even think about it, but I kissed it." He brought her wrist to his lips and kissed her softly, smiling as she involuntarily shivered.

"We were good together, weren't we?" she asked sadly.

"The best." He took her face in his hands, tracing its lines, memorizing it. "Every kiss, every touch, every night you gave yourself to me, forgive me if I ever took any of it for granted."

His lips met hers then and a fragment of memory, of another kiss like this one – salty with tears like the Crimson Sea, flew through her mind. She pulled him closer to her, as though in a single kiss she could capture his soul with her own, but he pulled back from her, his eyes pale with grief and full of tears.

He turned from her and opened the door, packing the snow around it to hold it open.

_[If they don't go through you'll need to find Mirana and destroy them.]_

Fred blew the horn, commanding the dead forward once again, then pulled the strap of it from around his neck so that he held it only with his hands. He moved away from the front of the door, back to where Lizzie stood beside it. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her one last time.

_[Tell my son...]_

The army was almost upon them.

_[...that I love him...]_

He released her and threw the horn through the door. In Lizzie's mind, the part that was Fred vanished as he collapsed into the snow.

The dead marched past them, into oblivion.


	14. The Price of Love

A/N: Okay, I know I said 15 chapters, but I just finished Ch. 15 and I'm barely seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Actually, chapters 11-13 were meant originally to be one chapter and what I've written for 15 was kind of spur of the moment, so I'd say there are at least a few more chapters to go. (Hope you're not too disappointed that it's not over, yet, lol)

This and the next chapter are probably my personal favorites so far, at least in terms of being satisfied with how they turned out. Let me know what ya' think :)

* * *

"_We were drawn from the weeds,  
we were brave like soldiers  
falling down under the pale moonlight..._

_Now it's cold and we're scared,  
and we've both been shaken.  
Hey, look at us -  
this doesn't need to be the end..._

_Fall on me -  
tell me everything you want me to be.  
Forever with you, forever in me,  
ever the same."_

_-Rob Thomas_

* * *

Lizzie sat down in the snow and pulled Fred into her arms. Her hand felt for his heartbeat, but found instead a horrible stillness, and as she watched, his lips slowly turned pale and blue. She brought her heavy cloak around his shoulders and clutched him to her. As she held him and wept, the soft notes of a horn rolled across the plain from the east, echoing back at her from the north, south, and west so that it seemed to surround the two of them. Then a sound like far off thunder rolled across the sky, growing louder and louder until she recognized it as the sound of hoof beats. The only horse in sight was Llewyn, who had stayed some distance away, but she seemed not to notice.

"Llewyn," she called, "do you hear that?"

The horse's head swung up to look at her. "I hear nothing."

Lizzie's eyes scanned the horizon in every direction, the sound was so loud that she feared being trampled - a white figure draped in a white cloak, huddled against the snow. The day had turned clear, the sky a brilliant blue above the snow covered land, but there was nothing to be seen. Then a movement caught her eye. She looked up and with a startled cry beheld a horse coming at them from above, bearing straight down through the sky.

Lizzie screamed and closed her eyes, expecting to be crushed by the animal, but felt only a gentle brush as though touched by the wind as it passed and came to a stop before her. She looked up to see a horse and rider the likes of which she'd never beheld before. The horse was white, but his coat glistened like gossamer and his golden mane shimmered as though it were lit by a thousand tiny suns. The rider was a woman, her face fair and flawless, but ageless – without line or mark, though her lips were the color of blood – striking against her complexion. Her hair was like that of the horse, and it wound around the animal and over the ground, like a living, breathing soul, caressing all it touched. Braided though it were strands of gold and silver. A golden circlet sat upon her brow, and her gown was pure white. Upon her back sat a quiver of arrows and a golden bow.

She made no motion towards Lizzie, indeed did not even seem aware of her presence. As she watched, the woman took out a golden arrow, the point of it catching the sun. She unslung the bow and nocked the arrow, drew it back, and aimed it at Freddie.

"No!" Lizzie screamed, drawing him closer to her and trying her best to shelter him with her own arms and body.

The woman hesitated and lowered the bow, though she made no move to put it away. "How is it that you see me, daughter of Eve?" Her voice was like a rushing stream of water, bubbling over the rocks. "Your time has not come, though I have watched you from afar."

Lizzie, her grip on Fred not lessening looked up at the woman and shook her head. "Not him..._Please_..."

"Many have begged for the lives of others though the price is great, yet the one you cling to is already dead. Tell me, though - is this a price you would have paid? Your life for his?"

"I would gladly give my life for his..." she hesitated, then shook her head sadly, "but the destiny of his son is not mine to choose."

The woman smiled slightly. "An interesting answer," she replied. "Indeed, each carries his own, though it is often the destiny which chooses the man, and he is left with only the choice to accept it or resist." She again raised the bow. "Do you not wish his soul to sleep in peace?"

Lizzie could only weep. The body she held was as cold as the snow now, and she knew he was gone - yet to give him over seemed the ultimate finality. She nodded her head sadly. "Yes," she said, softly, "I want him to be at peace." She closed her eyes, waiting to hear the whisper of the arrow as it flew. Instead there was only silence, and she raised her head once more. The woman was watching her, a curious expression on her face.

"How is it that you love this man when you have no memories of him?"

"How could you know that?"

"In the north you stood betwixt life and death, and I waited to see if I would be needed. You were found to be with child and so our paths did not meet. The woman there took your memories of this man."

Lizzie thought over all that had happened between them during the months they'd spent in Southern – all the nights spent talking until the break of day, all the laughter, all the tears. "We made new ones," she said, quietly.

"Your mind has been touched by the child you carry, otherwise you would not see me. Though still, even with that – you are the only one not marked for death who ever has. His father was touched as well, was he not?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"He was a seer, a clairvoyant?"

"Yes..." Lizzie wasn't sure why any of that mattered.

As though sensing her confusion, the woman went on. "I ask because he _knew_ his fate, and yet he still chose to accept it. It is rare enough for a man to give up his life for another, but most do so without knowing until the deed is finished that they themselves did not survive." The horse tossed its mane as though it were impatient to leave while the woman seemed to ponder over her own words. Finally she looked at Lizzie and spoke again. "Because you carry a life that is not yours, I cannot ask you for that, but perhaps there is a trade that can be made."

Lizzie felt her mouth go dry and her body numb. Stories of people making deals with death never turned out well for the one in question, though her heart skipped a beat at the hope of saving Freddie. "What kind of a trade?"

"After you die. Your service for my freedom."

"I don't understand."

"My task is to ferry souls from the land of the living. I must serve until, at their death, another willingly takes my place. For this, I will leave him be."

Lizzie failed to see how the deal wasn't worth taking. "And he will live?"

"That is up to him. I cannot heal what was not broken."

"Then I accept," said Lizzie determinedly, but the woman shook her head.

"Before you make this pledge, I would not have you be ignorant," she said. "It is...a lonely task. You will yearn for sleep, but it will not come. You will take the warriors in the battle and the babe at its mother's breast. Neither young nor old, rich or poor, well or infirm will be a stranger to you, and if this man dies after you,_ you_ will have to send his soul on to a place where you cannot go – not until another willingly takes _your_ place. "

Lizzie was quiet for a moment, but as she weighed the choice, she knew she had already made her decision. "I understand," she said solemnly, "but I still accept the trade."

The woman smiled and Lizzie thought she looked as though she might cry tears of joy. She swung from the horse's back and knelt before her and reached out her hand, gently brushing Lizzie's cheek. "Thank you," she whispered as both she and the horse faded away.

At her touch, the pieces and fragments of memories that were all that was left of Lizzie's life before Iracebeth took her, blossomed and grew. Like tendrils of ivy, each thought and feeling intertwined with one another – meeting, melding, reforming - until the darkness of her past was filled again with life and love...and Fred.

In her arms, he began to gasp repeatedly, hyperventilating - like a man drowning as his body fought to save itself from oxygen deprivation. He showed no other signs of life, and his lips were blue and cold. Lizzie, dressed in the warmer riding clothes, unclasped her cloak and wrapped it around him instead. She pressed her hand to his chest, still cold as ice, but to her relief felt a slow, sluggish heartbeat. She held him as tightly to her as she could, though she knew her own body heat wouldn't be near enough. A sad tale it would be for her to make a deal for his life only to have him freeze to death. She looked around for Llewyn.

"Llewyn," she called, "I need your help!" The mare galloped over. "Can you lie down next to him? We need to keep him warm until we can get him back to Marmoreal."

"Of course." Carefully, the horse lay down next to them on the snow. Lizzie scooted as close to her as she could, pulling Fred up beside her as well. "Fred," she spoke in his ear, "just hold on, surely someone else will wonder where you are soon." His breathing had taken on a less desperate measure, but he wasn't shivering and Lizzie remembered from her first aid class in college that it was a bad sign as cold as he was. She didn't know if he could hear her or not, but if he could, maybe it would help him hold on until help arrived. There was so much to say...so she picked the first thing that came to her mind and began to talk...

"Do you remember the summers I stayed with my grandma when I was little? Remember the trees, how we used to climb them up to the tallest branches, until they were so narrow we swayed with them when the wind blew? That's one of my favorite memories. I don't know if I ever told you that...there's so many things that I haven't told you. After you were gone, I never climbed those trees again. It wasn't the same without you, Fred. Nothing was ever the same without you. When I got older, I started believing I'd just made you up and I'd halfway convinced myself of it. Until you came back though, I always felt like a part of me was missing, part of my heart that I always seemed to be searching for. When I was in college, I used to go to the mall and sit and just watch people, wondering if there was someone out there, feeling the same way that I did. There were nights I cried myself to sleep, and I couldn't figure out why I felt so alone or why I only felt half alive.  
We're a part of each other, Fred, in so many ways. You've always been the keeper of my spirit – since I was a little girl, and I don't know what I'd do without you now that I've found you again. You walked back into my life and suddenly, for the first time since I could remember, I felt like everything was _right_.  
Do you remember when we were in Elphyne, when I woke you up and we came here? You were sitting up, sleeping against the wall. You seemed so different – so young and...I don't know, I guess innocent in a way - so far removed from Drop Dead Fred that you were almost a different person altogether. I wanted to reach out and touch you then, but I caught myself before I did. Something changed that night, and I didn't understand it until later. In one way or another, I've loved you my whole life."  
She reached inside the cloak, relieved to find his body felt noticeably warmer. She took his hand in hers. "You know, I wouldn't change anything about the past. Even the bad things - if my mother hadn't locked you in the jack-in-the-box, you would have left me when I was still a child. You'd still be out there somewhere, wandering through my world, running away from a world you couldn't remember you loved." Her eyes burned with tears at the thought. "I love you, Fred, and I love Underland, and I'm so glad I got hit by that truck."

The sound of horses echoed from over the hill facing Marmoreal and Lizzie looked up to see a dozen riders coming towards them. As they neared, she recognized the flaming hair and top hat of his brother, Tarrant, in the lead. He stopped beside them and jumped down. She was sure they must be an odd sight to see, a woman in riding gear, a horse sitting in the snow, and between them a bundle in a white cloak.

"Wha' th' Bloody Hell hap'n'd here?" asked Tarrant. "Th' cat told us ya' were out 'n th' snow freezin' yer..." He stopped short as Lizzie pulled the hood of the cloak back to reveal a deathly pale Fred. Tarrant knelt and felt his neck for a pulse, his eyes whirling a dangerous amber.

"He's alive, Tarrant, but he's freezing."

Tarrant tucked the cloak back around Fred and picked him up in his arms. He hadn't noticed the door until now, standing wide open as Fred had left it. His eyes, still with a trace of madness, met Lizzie's. "What th' hell has he done?"

She shook her head. "I don't have time to explain it now, you have to take him back first." He hesitated only an instant before giving her a curt nod. With the other riders help, Tarrant hoisted his brother up in front of him on his horse and left for the castle. Lizzie went over to the door and kicked the snow out of the way to let it swing shut before she and Llewyn rode for Marmoreal as well.

* * *

Llewyn caught up easily with Tarrant's horse and together they rode towards the gates. The air around the castle was thick with a choking bluish-gray smoke that hung close to the ground and smelled of burning tires. The courtyard was littered with an army of dead huntsmen and horses. The combined smell of death and smoke made Lizzie gag and it was only by sheer determination and focusing her thoughts on getting Fred into the castle as quickly as possible that kept her nausea at bay. They rode up to the main steps and Tarrant hopped down from his horse, catching Fred as he fell off behind him. Lizzie followed him inside.

"Fetch a healer and th' Queen," Tarrant told one of the footmen by the door. He carried his brother up to the second level, to the room she and Fred used when they needed to stay at Marmoreal and lay him on the bed. "He's soaked to th' bone, Lizzie. Does he have any dry clothes here?"

Lizzie pulled open the drawers until she found them. With Fred down for the count, it took the two of them working together to strip him of the wet ones and get him into the dry ones. Tarrant bundled him into the bed while Lizzy started a fire, counting it as luck they actually had one of the larger rooms with a separate fireplace. It was already warming up nicely by the time Mirana and the healer rushed in.

As the healer set to work checking Fred over, Tarrant drew Lizzie aside while Mirana followed them.

"Now," he said, "please tell me what the bloody hell m' brother was doin' half dead in th' snow beside a door that shouldn't work anymore and where th' army that was followin' him went."

Lizzie was about to tell them the whole story, but stopped. They hadn't mentioned the horn and she wondered if maybe they didn't realize that he'd died when he let it go. Fred certainly wouldn't have volunteered that kind of information, otherwise he never would have been allowed to go roaming off all by himself. Everyone knew Freddie was stubborn and when he decided on some plan, no matter how dangerous or hair-brained, he wasn't easily thwarted. "He thought the dead might just follow the horn instead of him, so he propped the door open and threw it in. They followed it right through, I suppose they're still in there somewhere, or wherever it leads to now." Lizzie inwardly commended herself for not technically lying.

Mirana shook her head and looked at her, confused. "That explains the door and the missing army," she said, "but why is he in such bad shape and nearly frozen to death?"

Lizzie knew for a fact that he hadn't slept more than a few hours in days and was sure he hadn't bothered to rest here at Marmoreal. "Well, he was pretty tired last time I saw him and that was yesterday morning. He just collapsed."

"I told him to rest when he got here," huffed Mirana.

Tarrant rolled his eyes. "Ya' know Freddie can't sleep when there's somethin' to stick his fingers into." He looked around as though he was trying to remember something. "I was going t' go and see if I could torch th' door. I'm not sure they can be destroyed, but we'd be best t' just get rid of it." He nodded to her and Mirana and turned towards the door.

"Tarrant," Lizzie called after him, "his claymore, he dropped it beside the door."

"I'll find it," he told her as he left the room.

Together Lizzie and Mirana went back over to the bed where the healer was smearing some sort of smelly ointment on his fingers and toes. "He's done a number on hisself, fer sure," she told them. "Don't know how 'e didn't get frostbitten worse'n 'e did."

"How bad is it?" asked Lizzie, worried.

"Ah, not bad, though I dannae like how he's still gettin' warmer. He's gonna make hisself sick a galavantin' out in th' cold an' wet." She turned to Lizzie. "Are ya' stayin' here wit him, ma'am?"

Lizzie nodded. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," she said, tucking the covers back around him. "Keep 'im bundled up fer now, but if he gets much hotter, have someone fetch me. Otherwise, he needs t' sleep. I kin see from his face he's exhausted." She pulled down the bottom of his eyelid and looked at it. "Needs some tonic, too."

"I'll have someone bring you some food, Lizzie," said Mirana as she followed the healer out the door.

Lizzie got up and closed it behind them. She rubbed her eyes, not realizing until then just how tired she herself was. She had just sat back down in the chair by the bed when Chess popped in beside her.

"So," he began, "that drivel about being dreadfully tired might have fooled Tarrant and Mirana, but I want to know what _really_ happened."

"Why," she asked, irritated, "you certainly didn't do much explaining to _me._"

"Ah, but where would Freddie be now if I hadn't come in the first place, hmm...? I suppose he'd still be out there _dead_ in the snow." The cat swam around her and came to a stop upside down in front of her. "He looks remarkably alive, and you and I both know he shouldn't be."

"I might tell you if you weren't such a horrible gossip. Everyone knows you can't keep a secret."

The cat's eyes narrowed angrily. "That's a lie, and you know it."

"No, Chess. With you, everything has a price. If Freddie knew, it would break his heart."

Chess gave her a long look, when he spoke again his voice was quiet and low. "You made a deal with death, didn't you?"

She stared back at him. "He's alive, and that's all you need to know."

He blinked and began to sharpen his claws on the covers of the bed. "I hope he was worth it..," he said as he faded from view.

Lizzie pulled off her boots and the riding gear and dress underneath and found a dress she'd stowed away in the armoire earlier that summer in case she needed to change there. She slipped it on and pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed and slid in beside Fred. She rolled him over so that his head rested against her shoulder and put her arms around him.

Soon they both slept.


	15. All Through the Night

_A/N: Thanks so much for all the wonderfully kind reviews - especially to Salilia. Every last one of them is appreciated!_

_Oh, and the bark of the willow tree contains salicin which is a natural form of aspirin. So, I didn't make it up :) Some people claim it works better than the store bought stuff._

* * *

_"Visions of rain fall out of blue skies,_  
_rivers of tears flow out of dry eyes._  
_Answer my question - tell me no lies,_  
_is this the real world or a fool's paradise?_

_Love that lies sleeping wakes in the night,_  
_secrets for keeping that won't see the light._  
_I look to the future, and I hope it will be_  
_closer to heaven than you and me..."_

_-The Alan Parsons Project_

* * *

Lizzie swirled up out of a deep sleep. She'd been dreaming - a strange jumbled dream where everything was burning and burning. As the world around her slowly took the place of sleep, the heat and the sound in her head continued, and she realized it was Fred. He was burning up, and her dress was soaked with sweat where he lay next to her. Through their connection, he mumbled incoherently into her mind. She slid her arm out from under him and sat up. His face felt like it was on fire, even to her warm hands, and his pulse was racing. She threw the covers back from him then ran to the door and opened it, relieved to see a footman standing beside it.

"Please," she gasped, "fetch the healer."

"Right away, ma'am," he said, hopping quickly down the hallway.

Lizzie turned inside once more and climbed up onto the bed beside Fred, and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. He jerked his head away, as though avoiding some unseen foe, reminding her of the nightmares he used to have when they'd first come to Underland.

"Fred...Fred, wake up...," She shook him gently, but the only response was a moan and more muttering.

The healer hurried into the room then, took one look at Fred and told Lizzie she'd be back immediately and ran out. She reappeared less than a minute later, out of breath, holding a small vial.

"Hold him up for a minute, dear," she said. "Hopefully we can get a bit o' this in him."

Lizzie lifted his head, and moved behind him to prop him up more. The healer poured a small amount of brownish liquid into his mouth, but Fred immediately gagged and coughed unconsciously, spewing it out.

The woman shook her head. "If we can't get 'im t' take this, we'll jest hav' t' wait it out. Willa' bark is th' best thing I have for fever, but he has t' take some of it, at least. Here," she handed Lizzie the basin with water and a cloth. "Use this t' help cool him off. I'm sorry I can't stay, but we've got several injured from th' mornin' still comin' in. I'll be back t' check on him." She rushed off again out the door.

Fred was still propped against Lizzie and she sat him up enough to pull his shirt off then scooted around and lay him back down on the bed. The water in the basin was tepid and she dipped the cloth in and rang it out as much as she could before pressing it against his forehead and cheeks. It took only a minute for the cloth to warm up and she needed to wet it again. She continued her task, running the cool cloth over his face and his upper body. Gradually the delirium in her head faded as he fell back into a deeper sleep. She set the basin down beside the bed and once again lay down next to him, keeping the covers off this time, and slept. Her sleep was fitful, broken every so often by Fred's feverish rambling. She couldn't make anything out, though occasionally she heard what sounded like her name, slurred beyond recognition.

Each time she woke, she tried her best to cool him off, but it didn't seem to be getting better. It was nearly dark now, but the fireplace gave out enough light for her to see by so she decided against lighting the lamp. She noticed the healer had left the vial of willow extract on the table beside the bed and looked around to see what besides the pillows she could use to prop him up. There was a cushion in the chair which wouldn't help much, but it was something. She grabbed the vial and put it in her pocket, then took the pillow from under his head and leaned it against the headboard behind him, stacking the other pillows up to the sides. She was just trying to figure out how best to try and wrangle him into a sitting position when there was a soft knock on the door and she called them to come in. It was Tarrant with a tray of food.

"How is he?" he lisped. "I'm sorry I didn't get back before now, the door was impossibly hard to get to burn. Of course, I suppose burning an invisible door that shouldn't really be there in the first place, but is, is not the sort of thing that should be easy to burn if it burned at all, that is to say..."

"Tarrant!"

"Sorry!" His nervous rambling ceased and he crossed the room to where she was, setting the tray on the dresser.

"I need you to help me sit him up. The healer tried to get him to take something for the fever, but he spit it out before."

"Oh, well, that's not the way t' do it. I'll be right back, I just have to run to the kitchen."

"The kitchen?" she asked, confused, but he'd already run out of the room.

She felt for Fred's pulse. It was still rapid and thready with the high fever, but for the moment the voice in her head was silent.

_[Fred, I'm here, but you have to find your way back to me. You have to fight.] _

After a few more minutes, Tarrant once again ran into the room. He helped Lizzie prop Fred up against her and she wrapped her arms around him tightly, holding him in a sitting position. "Where is it?" he asked.

Lizzie fished the vial from her pocket and handed it to him. "Here's how ya' get m' brother t' take medicine. Our ma' had a trick." He grinned at her and took a sugar cube from his coat, pouring the liquid from the vial on it as it soaked it up. When it was saturated, he popped it in Fred's mouth. "Just wait a minute." Slowly, the sugar dissolved and Fred reflexively swallowed.

"There, hopefully that will do the trick."

"Thank you," she said with relief. "He's been burning up for hours."

Tarrant nodded and made to leave, then stopped and looked at her. "You're good for him, ya' know," he said. "I never thought Freddie'd find anyone who could make him want t' settle down. I'm glad he found you, Lizzie."

She smiled. "Me, too, Tarrant."

After Tarrant left, Lizzie picked through the bread and fruit on the tray he'd brought. She was starving, but for some reason things either tasted like cardboard or fish lately which made for a lousy incentive to eat. She nibbled a bit of an apple-ish looking one and forced herself to finish it and the juice. The drink had a strange aftertaste and she suspected there was something in it. Indeed about five minutes later she could hardly keep her eyes open. Dang it, she should have known Mirana would have slipped something in. Fighting the fatigue was useless, so she crawled back into the bed beside Fred. She placed her hand against his head. It was noticeably cooler, though still overly warm. She herself was freezing so she pulled the covers over her side of the bed, leaving them off of him. Her last thought was of the pledge she'd made...and how in the world she was going to explain to Fred why he wasn't dead.

* * *

It was the chill in the air that finally woke him up. Fred opened his eyes, and for a brief second his mind reeled in free fall, trying to remember what had happened and where he was. The events of the previous day, for it was full dark now, slowly resurfaced, but that only begged the question of what in the world was he doing_ here_? He'd always figured if there was a heaven it would be infinitely better than a cold room at Marmoreal. He rolled over and saw in the dim light from the dying fire Lizzie sleeping beside him, bundled in the covers. Nothing here made any sense... Had he dreamed everything? He sat up and immediately grabbed his head.

"_Son of a..."_ His head pounded like a freight train was rumbling through it. He climbed slowly out of the bed and went and threw more logs on the fire, noticing the riding gear and white cloak draped over the chair. Not a dream, then. He went back and lay down beside Lizzie, pulling the covers over both of them. She was going to have to wake up sooner or later if for no other reason than to explain to him why he was still alive. He knew his patience wouldn't hold out through the night, and darn it, she could sleep _after_ she'd told him why he wasn't stretched out on a board in Marmoreal's basement.

"Lizzie! Wake up!" he whispered. "Snot-face..." He supposed she wouldn't remember who that was. "Lizzie!"_ [Lizzie, wake up!] _He shook her shoulder but all he received was a sleepy groan as she turned over the other way. What was wrong with her?

He looked around and saw the tray of food. He picked up the glass of juice and grimaced as he sniffed it. Great, just great – now he was going to be _forced_ into being patient. Lizzie'd sleep through a tornado of marching bands now. He climbed back out of bed and looked around for a shirt. He didn't remember wearing the pants he had on which was...strange. He found one and his boots and finished dressing before tucking the covers back around her and slipping out the door. He made his way slowly to the kitchen through his blinding headache which had only gotten worse when he started walking. Tarrant was there alone, having tea. He looked up at Fred as he entered, surprised to see him up and around.

"What th' hell are you doing up? Last I saw ya', you weren't lookin' so hot. Well, actually you were burning up, so I suppose you were hot, but not the way I mean so I guess I should say you weren't looking cool per say..."

Fred groaned. "Shut up, Tarrant, I've got a headache."

"Sorry, here, have some tea," he said as his brother took a seat at the table.

Fred picked up the extra cup Tarrant had poured for him and smelled it suspiciously. "You didn't put anything in it besides tea, did ya'? I can't figure out what's going on 'cause someone drugged my wife..." He didn't miss the sly smile that flitted across his brother's face.

"You'll have to talk to Mirana about that, and no, the tea is fine."

Fred took a cautious sip and then drained the cup, holding it out for more. Tarrant frowned as his brother's hand shook slightly with the weight of the cup.

"You should be in bed, Freddie, you spent all evenin' with a fever an' nearly froze t' death yesterday mornin'. If Lizzie hadn't found ya', you'd be six feet in th' grave right now."

"I'll be fine. What happened to me?"

Tarrant shrugged. "All Lizzie said was that you'd collapsed. You run yourself ragged an' then ya' go off on some crazy mission."

Fred frowned. If all Lizzie had offered was that he'd collapsed and hadn't told the whole story, something strange had definitely happened. It wasn't like her to skirt the truth about things, especially to Tarrant or Mirana...that was his job. "The Army of the Dead, is it..."

"Aye, it's gone. Good thinkin' about 'em followin' th' horn through th' door. By th' way, the doors _do_ burn."

"You _burned _it?"

"Well, I wasn't gonna leave it sittin' there!"

A vague memory of the first time he'd found that particular door surfaced in his mind. He was just a boy, nine or ten, and he probably would have found it earlier if they had lived in Marmoreal before he was seven. "I suppose," he murmured. "If my son's anything like me, he'll be finding the doors sooner than later."

His brother looked at him strangely. "Come again?"

Fred pulled his thoughts back to the present. "A boy...," he grinned. "It's a boy."

"What's a boy? What are you talking about? Are you quite sure your fever's gone?"

Tarrant tried to feel Fred's forehead, but he slapped his hand away. Fred ran through everything in his head. He hadn't actually talked to Tarrant or Mirana except about the armies since...well, since before he left to rescue Lizzie from Iracebeth. But Chess had told Mirana about Lizzie loosing her memories...surely...

"You don't know? Chess didn't tell you?" Fred asked, amazed.

"Know _what_? I haven't seen Chess more than five minutes the last few months."

"That Lizzie's pregnant."

His brother stared at him, dumbfounded. "That's not possible."

"Oh, really? I s'pose it is," Fred gloated. "Just another thing I'm better at than you. Apparently _I'm_ not shooting blanks."

Tarrant's cheeks flushed nearly as red as his hair. "Ya' think it's funny, Freddie, but that's just...weird. S'never been a child born t' a male with th' gift."

Fred just shrugged. "I dunno, weird or whatever, it's a fact. He sent Lizzie a vision of th' Army of th' North riding into the village at Southern – that's how they knew to hide before it got there. I'm pretty sure that's how she knew where to find me yesterday, too."

"Sounds...smarter than you. 'Course, that's nothin' t' brag about. A boy, eh? Ya' know, Mirana's gonna kill ya' for not tellin' her."

Fred stood up and thumped him on the back. "That's why I'm going back to my room and _you_ can tell her in the morning."

"You're too kind..."

He laughed as he walked to the door. "'Night, Tarrant."

Lizzie was still sleeping when Fred got back to their room. Thankfully the room was nice and warm now with the extra logs on the fire. He spotted a small vial of brown liquid on the dresser and smelled it, recognizing it as willow extract. His head still hurt like crazy so he took a swig, grimacing at the bitter taste. He undressed and crawled back into bed to wait for Lizzie to wake up.

She'd rolled back over so that she faced him again, and he pulled the hair back from where it had fallen over her face. He scooted closer, watching her sleep, and for the first time a nervous fear ran through him. He should be dead. For all he knew, he _had_ been dead. Now he wondered what the real story was...the story only the woman in front of him knew, because she certainly hadn't told anyone else what had really happened.

He lay there a long time, thinking about himself and Lizzie, remembering their pasts, and thinking about the child growing inside of her. A year ago...a year ago he'd been the imaginary friend of Natalie Bunce. If someone told had him then that six months later he'd be married to Elizabeth Cronin and in less than a year they'd be expecting a child of their own, well...he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been about to wrap his mind around it.

The light slowly began to filter in through the shutters. "Lizzie...," He shook her shoulder. "Lizzie, honey, wake up."

Her eyes flashed open and she sat up, rubbing her eyes. "I wasn't even sleepy," she groaned. She plopped back down beside him and smiled. "You look much better."

He fought the urge to smile and just forget about what had happened and instead frowned at her. "And why is that?"

"Um...the healer had some smelly brown stuff for the fever...must have done the trick." She spoke happily enough, but her eyes didn't quite meet his.

"Lizzie," he said quietly, "I want to know what happened. And don't give me the same crap you gave Tarrant – you and I both know I shouldn't be here."

She fixed him with a long look as he searched through her thoughts for an answer. "Stop trying to read me, Fred. Can't you just be happy that you're here?"

He almost missed the obvious while trying to find the hidden. "What did you call me?"

"What are you talking about?"

He sat up, his heart pounding. "You called me 'Fred'. You haven't called me 'Fred' in nearly three months." As glad as he was about her having her memories back, that was something that shouldn't be either, not after Racie had destroyed them.

Lizzie smiled, hoping to change the subject. "Oh, yeah! I remember everything again – the spell must have worn off or something."

As soon as she said it, she wished she could take it back. Fred's eyes flashed with anger, and she could feel it flowing through him to her. He got out of bed and threw on his clothes before turning back to her.

"I've _never _lied to you," he said. "You can come and find me when you decide to tell me the truth." He grabbed his boots and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

_A/N: Obviously he didn't sleep very well...moody, moody. ;) Remember in the movie when he got mad at her and ran out into the street? Well, at least he doesn't kick her anymore, lol._


	16. A Matter of Trust

"_And so we embrace again behind the dunes.  
This beach is cold on winter afternoons,  
but holding you close is like holding the summer sun -  
I'm warm from the memory of days to come..."_

_-Billy Joel_

* * *

Lizzie sighed and threw the covers back. She'd give Fred a while to cool off – his exits were usually dramatic, but at least he didn't stay angry for long. She pulled on her boots and threw the cloak around her shoulders and made her way down to the kitchen. It was empty, but there was fruit on the table and she picked out a piece. She had no idea where Fred would have run off to at Marmoreal, so she made her way to Tarrant's workshop and knocked on the door. Alice opened it and smiled.

"Morning Lizzie!" She looked around outside the door. "Where's Freddie? Tarrant said he'd been waiting all night for you to wake up."

"Actually, I was wondering if he'd been by here," said Lizzie.

"Hmm...no, I've been here all morning and haven't seen him. Oh! Congratulations, though! I can't believe Chess didn't tell anyone that you were expecting!"

Lizzie was confused. "You mean no one here knew I was pregnant?"

"No, Freddie mentioned something to Tarrant last night, but that's the first we'd heard about it. Mirana was beside herself when Tarrant told her this morning."

"I'm sure," grinned Lizzie. "Alright, well, I'd better see where he's disappeared to."

"No problem...It's good to have you back,"

"Thanks, Alice."

She left the workshop and went out to the courtyard. She walked around the inner court, but didn't find him there, which probably meant one thing...he wasn't in Marmoreal anymore. Dang it!

[_Fine, I give up, where are you?]_

_[I'm not telling you. You should be able to find me as easy as I can find you with your ring on. You just need to practice more.] _

Lizzie sighed. He had to choose now to be stubborn. She brushed the snow from a bench and sat down and concentrated, letting her mind drift to the part connected with him. Her own thoughts fell away as she focused instead on what he was feeling. It reminded her of examining an onion, emotions were in layers – the most obvious at the top, the more subtle underneath. He was still slightly pissed, but she brushed past that, searching deeper. She knew he was right, she didn't practice nearly enough at reading _his_ thoughts, and what would have taken him an instant to discover from her, took her an eternity longer it seemed. Finally she caught something – warmth - and sensed a somewhat fishy, salty smell, and she knew where he had to be.

She was glad she had her boots on – the door that led to the dunes of the Crimson Sea was a good fifteen minute walk from Marmoreal's front gates. She pulled the hood of the cloak over her head, not wanting to be stopped by Mirana to chat about any number of various things she was sure the queen would want to talk about, and slipped out of the front gates. As she came around the castle to the rear where she would need to turn northeast, another set of footsteps stretched out before her and she knew she'd drawn the right conclusion.

There was only one place in Underland that Fred had mentioned was warm all year round and that was the northeastern edge of Queast. Why that was was a mystery to her, after all Northern Outland was cold and snowy this time of the year and it was directly west of Queast according to the map. One thing she'd learned since becoming a resident of Underland though was that things were never quite as they seemed. For all she knew, the area was under some sort of a spell. Regardless, it would be a nice break from winter for a few hours.

She reached the door and placed her hand on the knob, but stopped nervously, her palm sweaty against the metal despite the cold. He'd know if she wasn't telling him the whole story, and she was worried what his reaction would be. Taking a deep breath, she opened it and stepped over the threshold into the warmth of an artificial spring. She closed the door quietly behind her and took off her cloak and her boots, and walked across the warm sand to the enormous dunes in front of her. Instead of climbing to the top and sliding down the other side as she normally would have, she went around the far side. There, gazing out onto the water, his back against the dune, was Fred.

She went over and sat down beside him, wondering if she should speak out loud or in his mind. Sometimes it was easier to say things between them without really saying them, but this time she knew it would mean more for him to hear it.

"I'm sorry, Fred. You know I just wanted to keep you from worrying about me."

He leaned his shoulder into hers slightly. "I know, Lizzie. I'm sorry I got upset, but you have to trust me that I'll at least try to understand. You don't have to tell another soul about it, but you have to tell me."

She gazed at him quietly for a moment and ran her fingers through his hair, noticing offhandedly that his blue shirt matched the color of his eyes perfectly. Had she even stopped to notice him before they'd come to Underland? She tried to remember him as Drop Dead Fred and smiled, realizing just how much the crazy hair and strange clothes had overshadowed his handsomer features.

He raised an eyebrow, giving her an amused look. "I'm flattered, but that's the wrong subject."

She sighed, bringing herself back to the subject at hand. "Have you heard the legend about a lady named Gwynne the Huntress?"

"The chick who comes and carts you off when you die?" His eyes bore sharply into hers. "Why?"

Lizzie dropped her eyes from his and fiddled nervously with the hem of her dress. "I sort of met her."

"What do you mean you 'sort of met her'?"

"Well, when you threw the horn through the door, you fell down and...and...well, you were dead," she said quietly.

"And?"

"And, well, this lady on a horse came and she was about to...to...take your soul away I think, but she said I could make a trade with her and she'd leave you alone."

Fred's heart raced, surely she didn't make a deal...and yet, here he was – alive and well. He raised her chin up to make her look at him. "What kind of a trade?"

"Nothing now!" She tried her best to calm him down, his eyes were a strange color of gray and seemed to slice through her with their intensity. "Not until I...die. I agreed that after I die, I'll take her place, and she can go free." He said nothing, only stared at her. "I don't plan on doing that anytime soon," she added.

He shook his head slowly. "Elizabeth, that's...eternity is longer than a lifetime."

"I know what it is, she explained it to me, but the alternative wasn't an option. I wasn't going to let you go when she'd given me a choice."

"I would never ask you to trade something like that for me. You know that!"

She cupped his face in her hands. "Then you don't have to think of it like that. You can think of it as me being the most selfish I've ever been in all my life. _ I_ wanted you to live. _I_ didn't want to let you go. _I_ made a deal because _I_ wanted you back."

Fred wrapped his arms around her and lay his forehead against her shoulder. Neither said anything for a while, just listened to the waves as they lapped against the shore. Finally he leaned back and looked at her, his face betraying none of the guilt and sadness that Lizzie could feel inside of him. There was so much to say, but at the same time, so little. What was done was done and yet, it was impossible to say nothing and let it be.

_[What am I supposed to do? You've traded forever, Lizzie.]_

Tears filled her eyes. "It's not forever, Freddie. Someday, someone will take my place the same as I will hers. I don't want you to dwell on it - there's nothing that can be done. It was a fair trade, she didn't trick me into it. The reward was equal to the payment."

"I don't know that I'm worth what you think I am, Lizzie."

She placed her hand against his cheek. "Why do you always sell yourself short when you're being serious?" She closed the distance between them and kissed him. "You're worth everything to me – just like you've always been."

"You're the only person that's seen every side of me. I suppose I should be grateful I never scared you off," he mused.

"Not yet, anyway," she teased.

"I _would_ like to know how you found me," he said, changing the subject, "and how you knew what I was going to do."

"That story's just as strange as the first one." She told Fred all that had happened with Chess coming and giving her his rings and her figuring the only chance she had was to sleep and see if their son could find him. She told him about the storm in her dream, about the whole world moving around them as their child searched for him and finally found him – a vision of him in the future, walking towards the door.

"I don't know what to say, Lizzie." he said when she'd finished. "I've never heard of anyone being able to do something like that. Which can only mean one thing..."

"What's that?"

"Our son's going to be a handful."

She laughed. "Like his father, no doubt."

He kissed her cheek. "You love me because I'm trouble."

"Or in spite of it sometimes. So...what do you want to do? Now that everything's over and done with?"

He sat back, leaning against the dune and tossed a shell out into the waves. "Well, I want to sit here and enjoy being warm for a while, 'cause I don't know about you, but I'm a little tired of being cold, and then I want to go home."

She settled back against him and he draped his arm around her. "Which home would that be? I feel like we have two."

"Well, we ought to go by our cabin and check it out. I was only there the one time to grab supplies so who knows what shape it's in now. If those huntsmen guarding the door were squatting there for a while, we may be in for a lot of work."

"I need to get Llewyn from Marmoreal first."

"And Ulyngar, but if we don't say something to Mirana before we leave, we'll never hear the end of it. Which means we're not going home today."

She thought over the doors it would take to get to Witzend from the sea.

_[No] _he thought to her_, [we won't have time today. It's too cold, and it's nearly noon. Tomorrow is soon enough.]_

_[I suppose so.] _She closed her eyes, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt against her cheek.

They sat together listening to the waves until they both dozed off. The sun sank behind the clouds and the shadows grew longer, and it was late-afternoon before they headed back to the cold of Marmoreal.

* * *

Lizzie shivered as they crossed through from the warmth of Northern Queast into Marmoreal. "Let's hurry," she said. "I've been back less than ten seconds, and I already feel like an icicle."

As they approached the castle from the western side, they could see that the remnants of huge bonfires that had burned in the valley beyond the gates were still smoldering. The land had been cleared of the dead she'd seen the previous morning, but the snow still bore the memories of the lives that had been lost. She looked up at the sky, hoping it would snow soon and cover the blood, but there were only a few wispy clouds, not the kind that held any promise of precipitation. Fred looked down as he walked, not wishing to revisit the events he'd borne witness to, and she took his hand in hers as they made their way to the gates and inside the courtyard.

"I wonder how many are left in the North," she said. "Surely not everyone rode with them. From what I heard it sounded like they'd been held captive in a way by the huntsmen."

The memory of the boy laying dead in the snow flashed through Fred's mind. He shook his head. "I don't know...I don't think I'll ever understand how people could allow themselves to be controlled by someone like Remenhal."

"Maybe they thought he was protecting them."

"More likely no one had the balls to stand up and tell him to 'piss off' before he got out of control. For all his protection, there are a lot of mothers with no sons today," he said bitterly.

She almost asked him more about what happened, but she stopped before she did. It was in that moment that she realized what he'd done –what his role in the battle had been. _He_ had been the one commanding the other army. _He_ had been the one to give the order that had sealed the fate of the men of the Northern Army. In the end, she didn't press further, and that was the last she would ever hear him speak of it.

They went to the kitchen, helping themselves to the stew that was simmering in a huge pot on the stove and sat down at the table to eat. They were almost finished when Fred stopped halfway through a bite and grimaced.

"What?" asked Lizzie.

"Mirana's coming."

"Oh."

Less than a minute later, the queen came through the door. Her face was the perfect picture of politeness and tranquility, but Fred caught her feelings - torn between joy and regret, and met her eyes as she took a seat across from him beside Lizzie. She gave him a sad smile. So much had happened to him between yesterday and today, he'd almost forgotten about Racie, but she was still very much on her sister's mind.

"So," she said, her smile brightening to a level that didn't match her eyes, "I hear you've been keeping secrets from me again."

"I've no idea why Chess didn't tell you," said Lizzie.

The queen waved it aside. "Believe it or not, he probably had a good reason. You and Freddie are about the only humans he'll tolerate – maybe he thought it was better that less people knew."

"I suppose I hadn't thought of it that way," she said.

"Have you thought of a name, yet?"

Lizzie grinned. "We haven't really had a lot of quality time together lately."

"Ah, I see. And your memories?"

"All back to normal."

Fred spoke, cutting her questioning about that short. "Miri, are you okay?" he asked softly.

She looked at him silently for a moment, and he knew tears were not far behind her eyes. "I'll be fine, Freddie, but thank you for asking." She stood up to leave. "There's a memorial in Northern Outland the day after tomorrow, at the sea. You should be there."

Freddie nodded. "Tarrant knows the way, through the doors from here. We need to go back to Southern tomorrow."

"Fairfarren then, I don't think I'll see you tomorrow." They bid her farewell as she left the kitchen.

Lizzie glanced at Fred. It was so strange to have the memories of when she didn't remember the past in her mind – there were things she was only now becoming aware of. She knew about Iracebeth, but she hadn't asked him any more about it than what he'd offered. All she knew was that she'd been killed. Now she realized how out of the ordinary it had been for him to have had his promise ring off for so long. He'd been keeping her out of that loop, and though she understood why, she worried about him. The woman had left a deep scar on his soul that would never fully heal, no matter how much he didn't think about it anymore. Lizzie thought about the knife he'd taken with him...

She got up from the table and walked behind him, putting her arms around his neck in a loose hug. _[What happened, Fred – to Iracebeth?] _She felt him draw a deep breath and sigh.

_[I'd rather not talk about it, Lizzie. I did what had to be done.] _

_[Are you okay?]_

_[Honestly? Yes, I am. She...wasn't always like she'd become.] _

Lizzie leaned over and kissed his temple. _[You don't have to talk about it. I just wanted you to know that I understand.]_

He planted a kiss on her arm. "Come on," he said standing up from the table. "Let's get out of here."

There wasn't much to do other than go back to their room. Most of the people from Snud and Queast had left and the corridors were quiet and empty. Unlike after most gatherings at Marmoreal, the atmosphere wasn't festive and there was no reason for anyone to stick around.

Lizzie was too busy thinking about their trip back to their cabin the next day to notice Fred watching her, a sly grin tugging at his mouth. He let her open their door, catching the end of one of the laces of her dress in his fingers, watching as it slowly untied as she walked through the door.

The fire had burned nearly all the way down and the chill hit Lizzie as she entered the room. "Brrr...it's cold in here!"

Fred caught her around the waist, kicked the door closed, and spun her around - pinning her against it. "That's okay, I'll keep you warm."

She couldn't help but tease him. "I don't know, Fred...it's _awfully_ cold in here.

His blue eyes looked up at her through their lashes. "Are you questioning my abilities?"

She giggled, despite herself. "I would never...AAAH!"

He picked her up and sat her down in front of the fireplace, tossing a log on the fire before he knelt down beside her. "I wouldn't want you getting sidetracked from the chill."

"Hmm...isn't that what you're_ trying_ to do?"

"You know what I've missed most? I've missed being _yours_..." He leaned closer. "Anything you want," he whispered, "whenever you want it..."

She turned towards him and wound her arms around his neck. "Right now, Fred, I just want _you_."


	17. To Live is to Remember

_A/N: Sorry for the wait on this chapter. I have to admit, I've had a bit of writer's block, so I didn't do anything for a few days. Then I sat down and read LJH completely through and then MOY. It really helped. This story is looking like it's going to be as long as LJH after all. :)_

* * *

"_May it be an evening star,  
shines down upon you.  
May it be when darkness falls,  
your heart will be true._

_You walk a lonely road _  
_Oh how far you are from home...__"_

_-Enya_

* * *

The sun was already shining brightly when Fred woke the next morning. There was so much to do today, but he shuddered as he thought of traveling through the cold of Underland's winter. Nearly freezing to death must have done something wacky to his internal temperature – he swore he was never going to feel warm again. He decided the best way to forget about it would be to bother Lizzie, never mind that she was still asleep. He put his arms around her and rolled her over with her twice. She screamed after the first roll and they came to a stop with him poised over the top of her.

"Morning, Snot-face! Rise and shine, we've got a lot to do today."

She pulled the hair out of her face and looked up at him, wondering how he could be so chipper. "Quit it, Fred! You know I hate it when you wake me up like th..." She shoved him off of her and reached the basin beside the bed just in time to throw up.

Fred watched her with a mixture of concern and amusement. "I can't say I've had _that_ affect on you in a while."

She wiped her mouth and took a swig from the water glass on the dresser. Before he could move, she hopped back onto the bed, tackling her husband. "Want a kiss, Freddie?" she asked him.

He stared up at her, a look of horror on his face. "I'm trying to cut down."

She pressed her lips to his anyway as he squirmed beneath her. She let him go and laughed. "That's for waking me up like that!"

"Blech! You're disgusting!"

"You're so sexy when you're revolted," she teased. "You used to love puke."

"On others, not on me!"

"I don't know, you're halfway responsible for me being pregnant so I think you should share half of the vomit."

"I'll hold the basin for you, dear," he smirked.

"You're such a gentleman." She kissed his head as she crawled off the bed to get dressed.

_[So...what do you think?]_

_[About what?]_

_[About having a kid, about being a dad.]_

Fred sat back down on the bed, pulling Lizzie beside him. "Honestly?" He ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not sure it's really sunk in yet, to tell you the truth."

"Just think, by next summer it won't just be us anymore."

His eyes stared ahead, unfocused, thinking of the future. "Yeah, I know. It's well...I mean, don't get me wrong I'm happy about it, but it kind of scares the crap out of me."

"I thought nothing scared you," she said, surprised at the shy, nervous expression so rarely seen on his face.

"I don't have a lot of experience with babies. The only one I've ever really been around was my sister, and I was only three when she was born. What if he doesn't like me?"

She laughed. "Doesn't like you? What are you talking about, you spent over a century being an imaginary friend. I think that counts as previous job experience."

"That's not the same," he grumbled, "and I'm not sure Drop Dead Fred's the impression I should be aiming for here. Besides, all my charges were at least three years old, not babies."

"I'm more worried about getting to that part."

"Huh?"

Lizzie looked down uneasily and bit her lip. "You know, labor and everything. I never thought of myself as one of those granola eating moms who'd be giving birth in my own home."

He put his arm around her and kissed her hair. "You'll be fine. You should talk to Dyvych about it, though – I know even less about that than about babies."

She sat quietly for a moment then hopped up off the bed, absently rearranging the objects on the dresser. Fred knew something else was on her mind.

_[What's wrong?]_

She stopped and turned around. "Fred?"

"Yes?"

"I know you aren't crazy about being around people all that much, and I miss our home in Witzend, too, but I was wondering if you'd mind if we stayed in Southern...at least until the baby's born?" She blurted it out like it was the awfullest thing she could have possibly asked him.

He just looked at her, confused about why she thought he'd be upset. "I don't have a problem with that, Lizzie. In fact, I was going to suggest it myself."

"Oh," she said, relieved.

"But...there are going to have to be some improvements made to that cabin if I'm living there any length of time. I want my indoor plumbing and hot water back."

"I'll second that," she laughed.

* * *

They left Marmoreal early with the horses they'd ridden from Southern Outland. Fred turned towards the door that would lead to the Crimson Sea, the first of the four doors that they normally took from Marmoreal to Witzend, when Lizzie called him to stop.

"I think I know a shorter way," she said, remembering the path she'd taken earlier. "I forgot to tell you, I found a new door."

Fred's eyes lit up. "A new one? Where's it go?"

"It comes out east of Marmoreal and leads to Iplam. If we use it, we can take the door in northern Iplam to the Crystal River and then go south. On horseback it shouldn't be that long and we'd only have two doors."

He gestured in front of him. "Lead the way."

* * *

"You're sure this door actually opens?" Fred slammed his shoulder into it again, trying to dislodge the snow that kept if from opening into Iplam.

"We had to set it in a ditch, I guess the snow's fallen against it."

Ten minutes later, Fred had finally managed to open it enough for Lizzie to squeeze through. She set to work digging it out enough for Fred and the horses. Finally they were able to come through as well.

"I'm not sure we saved much time here," said Fred.

"Sorry, I didn't think about the snow."

"That's okay, it makes me wonder though...you actually _moved_ the door?"

"Yeah, it was laying over that way about 20 feet or so under the snow."

"Hmm. I wonder if it would still work if we moved it, say, twenty miles that way." He pointed to the mountain chain far off on the horizon.

"We can check it out this spring," she said, "though I could think of a dozen different doors that would be more useful if they were closer. The only thing this one would accomplish would be making Marmoreal practically in our backyard." She knew what his opinion on that would be.

"Right...maybe we'll leave it alone."

The other door from Northern Iplam to Northern Witzend gave them no trouble and they turned south and followed the Outland Mountains until they rounded the familiar outcropping of rocks just east of their destination. Lizzie's heart skipped a beat as their cabin came into view and urged the faster Llewyn past Ulyngar.

_[You might not like what you find,]_ warned Fred.

_[It's still standing, I'll take my chances...slowpoke.]_

Llewyn stopped in front of the small cabin and Lizzie swung down from her back. Nothing looked damaged as far as the structure itself went, but that wasn't what caught her eye.

"You've got to be kidding!" Lizzie stormed up to the door which had been left standing wide open. Nearly three feet of snow spilled into the front room. She slogged past the drift and into the cabin, noting that everything seemed to be coated with at least an inch of snow where the wind had blown it in. Fortunately the bedroom door was closed. She hoped it had fared better.

Behind her Fred let out a low whistle as he surveyed the damage. "Well, at least it's still winter and hasn't melted yet," he offered.

Lizzie opened the door to the bedroom only to find it in nearly as bad a condition. "What the...? Why the hell is the window open!"

"Sorry," said Fred. "I had to use it when I got our supplies."

"What was wrong with the door?"

"There were bad guys outside!"

"You could have at least closed the window."

"I had to break it."

"Good grief." She picked her way across the room and pulled the shutters closed and rummaged around in the nightstand until she found a hair-band which she looped over the shutter handles to hold them shut. "You know we're going to have to clean all the snow out before it gets warmer."

"Yeah, I know, but not now. I should have bought a snow shovel last time I was Above, I forgot about it."

"We have to at least close the door."

Together they managed to haul the majority of snow out of the doorway, enough that they were able to shut it.

Fred went to the kitchen and turned the spigot above the sink. It shuddered and let out a whining noise, but no water came out. "Crap. Grab what you need, I'm going to look around back."

Lizzie headed back into the bedroom. Both of their spare packs were in Southern and Fred's other one had been taken when Iracebeth had captured him. That meant there was only one left. She began filling it with their bare necessities, they could come back later and get whatever else they needed. She heard Fred's cursing and ran outside to see what the matter was. When she rounded the side of the cabin, she saw for herself. Fred had spent an inordinate amount of time over the summer rigging up a small solar water heater and solar water pump to the well behind their cabin and routing pipes inside. He'd found the materials at some home-improvement store Above and it had cost them a pretty penny by that realm's standards, but it had worked great and Tarrant had been insanely jealous (which had only made Fred happier). The snow beside the well was now littered with shards of black glass from the panels.

"Well, that explains why the water doesn't work," he said, kicking disgustedly at the remnants of his handiwork.

Lizzie came up behind him and laid her hand on his shoulder. "You can build another one," she sighed. "come on and see if there's anything you need to pack."

With the window and door closed, the little bedroom wasn't nearly so wretchedly cold. Fred picked out a few things and tossed them into the pack.

"Oh!" Lizzie exclaimed and sat down on the bed.

Fred, confused by her surprise, turned around to find her looking at him with the strangest expression on her face, her hand pressed against her abdomen.

"What? What's wrong?"

She grinned. "Nothing's wrong. I think I just felt him move. Don't look so worried, come here."

He sat down beside her on the bed. She took his hand and placed it against her. "You probably won't feel anything, but that's where it was."

His eyes met hers and she smiled, yet as she did his eyes changed – the pupils constricted and the color of his irises shifted, turning the greenish-blue color that signaled one of his visions. She kept as still as possible, not wanting to disturb him.

* * *

Freddie looked up, but found himself looking not into the eyes of his wife, but out across a rolling meadow, lush and green with Spring. Through the grass, a boy – surely no older than five or six – came towards him. Fred knelt to be at the same level as the boy stopped in front of him and grinned, his eyes shining with all the life and wonder childhood. He reached out and took Fred's hand.

"Are you my father?" he asked shyly.

Fred thought there could be little doubt about whose son he was, he looked just like him. "Yes, I am."

The boy grinned. "I found you," he said proudly.

"Yes, you did."

"I found someone else, too. She wants to talk to you. Is that okay?"

Fred was puzzled, this wasn't like his normal visions at all. Everything here was so real – as though he were physically here. He'd never had a vision where anyone interacted with him, either. "Um...sure, it's okay."

"She's behind you."

Fred turned around. Behind him was a woman, her back to him, gazing out over the meadow and her long brown hair ruffling in the slight breeze. At first he thought it was Lizzie, but this woman was shorter than she was, and as the memory of a face formed in his mind, the woman turned around. Freddie's breath caught in his throat as his eyes met hers.

"Freddie," she said, smiling warmly at him. "It's okay, don't be afraid."

A choked sob escaped him as he closed the distance between them, real or not, and threw his arms around his mother.

How long they stood there, before the truth of the situation found him, he couldn't say. "You're not real," he whispered.

She leaned back from him. "Yes, I am. I don't know how he is able to bring my spirit here, but for a moment he has." Her hands wiped the tears from his cheeks. "Don't cry for me Freddie, I'm so proud of you." She turned again and looked out over the meadow. "Do you remember this land? I'm sorry you had to leave it so young. It broke my heart to have you ask me when we were going home after we moved to Marmoreal."

He gazed out over the field, on the next hill was another cabin, smoke swirling idly from its chimney. Beyond that were others, real in the moment, yet only ghosts of what used to be the village of Northern Witzend. He shook his head sadly. "There's no one left. No one anymore, just me and Tarrant."

"No one?" she reproved. "I see a cabin, sheltered beside the mountains that still stands. You and your wife and son, you live for all of us. As long as someone remembers, this land is still ours. Don't be afraid to be proud of who you are."

"I'm not."

"You have to wake up now, and I have to go."

"I'll never see you again, will I?" he asked.

Her green eyes shone with love as she smiled at him. "No, probably not, sweetheart – not in this life, but death is only another beginning. Someday, our paths will cross again." She put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "I love you, Freddie."

"I love you, too..." The world swirled back in around him and he was back in his cabin, his hand against his unborn child, and his eyes gazing into his wife's. He smiled.

"Are you okay," asked Lizzie. She been alarmed at the tears which had rolled steadily from his unblinking eyes.

He gave a short laugh and wiped his face. "Yeah, I'm fine. That was just...unexpected."

"Did you see him?"

He nodded. "The little kid who looks just like me? Yes, and my mother."

"Really? How?"

"I'm not even going to attempt to try to understand it. All I know is that she died when I was fifteen, but she was there – as real as you are to me now." He got up and knelt by the bed, drawing the chest that had been at Marmoreal out from under it. There were two more things he needed to pack.

They left Witzend, after trying to brush the snow from anything valuable in case it warmed up before they could return, and made their way through the doors until they were once again on the other side of the Outland Mountains. They still had over an hour ride to reach the village of Southern and rode quickly, the shortened daylight already waning.

Lizzie hadn't expected their reception, but apparently Dyvych had sensed them coming and most of the village was there to greet their adopted family back as they rode into the village. Lizzie and Fred thanked the horses and hopped down.

"Girl, ya' nearly gave us all a fit when we found ya' missin' th' other morning!" chided Dyvych as she hugged Lizzie, "and I'm sure ya' haven't had a decent meal all day."

"Marmoreal's ration bars..."

She laughed. "You can't grow a child on ration bars! Come on, you two."

Fred and Lizzie joined hands and followed her back through the village.

_

* * *

_

A/N: _The solar water pump and water heater. I did some research about them before hand 'cause I wanted to make sure it was practical for him to do. They're actually pretty neat, they're really compact and made for cabins that are off the grid and out in the middle of nowhere. The pump's about a foot long and just sticks down inside the well and the water heater is a small tank and both are rigged to a small solar panel. I was impressed._


	18. Return to Auld Lang Syne

Auld Lang Syne = old Scottish for "long, long ago"

* * *

"_...These are my mountains and this is my glen,  
The braes of my childhood will know me again.  
No land's ever claimed me tho' far I did roam,  
For these are my mountains and this is my home..."  
-Traditional Scottish folk song_

* * *

Conflicts in Underland had been few and far between. Rarely did a tyrant rise to command over his neighbors as swiftly or completely as the huntsman Remenhal had done. Nor had the land seen the like before of one such as Iracebeth, who had dared to desecrate the sleep of those whose death she had ordered herself, sixteen years earlier. In a years span, Underland had born the brunt of both, and only time itself would heal the wounds of those who had witnessed it. Though rare, there was precedent for the misfortune of war and it's casualties, set down in the dusty annals of its history. After all was said and done, when the score had been settled and the struggles gained or lost, it was customary for the victors to host a memorial for all who had fallen of both sides – until now.

Though formality held that Marmoreal would be the one to hold such a ceremony, never in the history of the realm had any province lost so much in a single day as had Northern Outland. Nearly every able-bodied man over the age of fifteen had ridden to Marmoreal, yet only one in twenty had returned home. With no practical way of traveling to the other side of Underland in winter, those remaining in Northern had asked for the privilege of hosting it, and Mirana had granted it immediately.

For Fred, the day signaled the end of the longest winter in his life, and knowing he had played a key role in the desolation of Northern Outland (though he believed they had chosen their own fate) made it that much harder. No one had mentioned the hundreds whose bodies had been stolen to fight, nor had the clans of Witzend and Iplam ever been given a proper memorial in the first place. According to Tarrant, Iracebeth had only grudgingly allowed them to be buried in the first place instead of dumped out into the sea.

It was still dark outside when he'd woken and as hard as he tried, the words his mother had left him with haunted him and kept him from sleep. Finally he'd gotten out of bed and sat down by the fire to think. He could still see the vision behind his closed eyes of the village of his childhood. Some of it still stood – he knew. He and Lizzie had gone there over the summer. Unlike Iplam, the Jabberwock had not burnt Witzend. Most of the clans had traveled to Hightopp Hill that fateful day and those who stayed behind were slaughtered by the Red Army. Why he had wanted to go there, he couldn't say. He supposed he had hoped to find a small band of survivors, like himself and Tarrant, but the little of what remained standing was a ghost town and he knew theirs were the first steps that had walked it's overgrown paths in over a decade. The trip would have been for naught except for the single item he found there, hidden away inside a crumbling chimney that was all that was left of the home where the chief elder had lived.

He opened his pack and took out the second item he'd taken from the chest the day before.

"No Ma," he whispered, running his hand over the kilt which bore the Hightopp tartan, "I'm not ashamed of who I am."

He dressed simply as those from his clan normally would have (not the certifiably insane way Tarrant always did) and waited for Lizzie and the sun to rise. Three pieces of bread and jam later, he sensed her waken. He ran his hand nervously through his hair.

She opened the door and stopped, surprised to see him dressed as he was, but smiled at him as she came over to where he stood by the window.

"You look good, Freddie," was all she said, kissing his cheek. "When do we need to leave?"

"Soon," he said, handing her breakfast. "You'll need to take Llewyn and ride separately, though, I have an errand to run before I come back."

"An errand?" It wasn't like there was a K-mart just down the road. "What kind of errand?"

"Something nosy little girls like you don't find out about until I tell them. I think we missed Christmas this year."

She raised her eyebrow at him. "You're just looking for an excuse to go Above."

He smiled. "Well, if that's how you feel, I guess I don't_ have_ to go."

"I suppose I'll survive for a while without you," she sighed.

"You'd better get dressed unless you're planning on wearing your nightgown today. I'll meet you at the stables, I've got to find something before we leave."

She went back to the bedroom and took out a dress, then stopped and put it back, taking out instead one that had been dyed a deep bluish-green – the same color as the base of his kilt. She threw on her cloak (she had traded the white one back with her navy one that she'd left there) and left to meet up with Fred.

She found him there in the stables, lashing a long spear to the tack of Ulyngar.

"What's the spear for?"

"You'll see when we get there," he answered, obscurely.

He swung up onto the stallions back and she mounted Llewyn and they rode to the square where Illynyr and the other's who were traveling from Southern waited. Together they began the long trip over the frozen land to Northern Outland's shore of the Crimson Sea.

_[So, how long does this normally last?]_ she asked him.

_[Probably not very long. It's more symbolic than anything else, though if there's been one in my lifetime I wasn't there so I don't know.]_

As they neared the sea, they were joined by riders from other provinces and passed several wagons along their path.

Fred frowned. _[I was hoping we'd be late instead of having to wait on everyone.]_

Lizzie felt the air change before she saw the water. The smell of brine filled her senses and the gulls screamed raucously from the air. Unlike northern Queast, there was no beach in northern Outland. Here, like most of the lands Above from which these clans had originally come, the land fell away in great, towering cliffs, muting the roar of the surf far below.

They left their horses at the edge of the forest and followed the others to the wide, windswept cliff where representatives from throughout Underland were gathering. With each group flew the standard of that province, and Lizzie, who had delved into Marmoreal's dusty library with a passion the previous summer, recognized them all. She spotted Mirana and Tarrant under the white flag of Marmoreal.

_[Who do we stand with, Marmoreal or Southern Outland?] _she asked Fred.

_[Neither.]_

She turned around and watched as he took the item he'd found hidden away in the remnants of his homeland and tied it to the spear he'd brought. She'd forgotten about it on their journey home that day and had never remembered to ask him what it was – in fact he'd never even unrolled it, only put it away in the chest under their bed. Now her heart lept to her throat as he unfurled the green silk into the breeze and she realized what it was. It was the standard of the province of Witzend.

His eyes shone with pride. _[Today, we stand where we belong. Even if we're the only ones.] _

Lizzie smiled and took his hand. _[Let's go then.]_

In their current location, the other representatives stretched out in order to their right. There was room for them at the end they were closest to, but Fred was determined that today, _this_ day, Witzend would not be forgotten. He led Lizzie through the crowd.

_[See where Queast is, at the far end?] _ He motioned down the coastline to where the last group, Queast, stood with their yellow standard.

_[Yes...] _

_[That's where we're going.] _To get there, they would need to cross in front of everyone else who had gathered.

A hushed silence fell over the crowd as they made their way past the other provinces, the banner of green silk with its golden sunburst streaming above them. Mirana smiled as they passed Marmoreal and Tarrant, dressed in the same tartan as Fred – albeit rather more eccentrically, glowed with pride. At last they reached the end and took their place beside Queast.

The memorial itself was nothing fascinating, reminding Lizzie of the simple graveside services held at the funerals in her own country. Mirana did however manage to sneak in a few words in memory of Witzend and Iplam which she knew Fred would be grateful for.

As the ceremony ended and the crowd broke apart to return to their homes, Tarrant approached them, his eyes suspiciously watery.

"Where'd ya' find the flag, Freddie?" he asked, looking up at it. "I went m'self t' Witzend an' couldn't find it. I'm sure I'm not the only one who thought I'd never see it again."

"It wasn't meant t' be found, at least not by the Red Army."

"Ya' want me t' take it back t' Marmoreal?" asked Tarrant.

Freddie looked at him like he was crazy. "What for?" he asked, unknowingly taking his brother's bait. "Don't ya' think it should stay with someone who actually _lives_ in Witzend?"

"I thought ya' proclaimed me the chief elder," he reminded him.

"I'm rescinding your title."

"Does that make your marriage invalid?"

Freddie's eyes flashed. "Piss off, Tarrant."

Tarrant laughed. "I'm jest teasin' ya', brother – about th' standard as well. You _should_ keep it. It's because of you that people will remember us today." He stopped and looked around, spying Mirana and the others who'd come from the White Queen's castle gathering near the path. "I've got t' get back t' Marmoreal. I'll see ya' later. You too, Lizzie."

Lizzie watched him disappear into the crowd. "I don't know why you always get so bent out of shape at him," she said, turning to Fred. "He's only teasing you. You do enough of it yourself, one would think you'd recognize when someone's doing it to you."

He shot her an irritated look. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind, Dr. Spock." His scowl only deepened when she burst out laughing.

They walked back to the wood-line and found their horses. "So you're leavin' me, huh?" she asked him.

"For a little while. I might be back late though, with the time difference and all."

"Just...be careful Fred. I've had quite enough adventures to last for a while. Don't get yourself in trouble and make me have t' find you and drag ya' back home."

He grinned. "Only small pranks, I promise," he said and kissed her.

They hugged each other and mounted their horses, leaving in different directions.

* * *

"Ulyngar, how quickly can you get me around the mountains to the river?"

The horse stopped. "The river?" he asked, confused. "I thought you were going Above. Isn't the way up in Crims?"

"I never told her I was going Above, she just _assumed_ that was where I was going. We need to get to Hightopp Hill. Unfortunately it's a longer ride so we're going to have to be fast."

"Fast? Hold on." The stallion raced back towards the sea and took the path that would lead south around the Outland Mountains to where the river flowed from the other side.

A little over two hours later they passed the river, and Fred led the way to the door. Iplam was the closest they were going to get to his destination by door and from there they would need to cross a place he hadn't been in over sixteen years. They made their way over the frozen wasteland of Iplam, Fred feeling more and more bone chillingly cold and sick of winter as the miles clocked by them. Finally they came to the edge of the battlefield, the black and gray squares stretching out before them.

Where time had changed other parts of Underland, the checkered field stood untouched – a sentinel of the past. No grass grew between its panels, nor roots found purchase in its cracked and weathered tiles. Around the north and east sides rose the columns that had once held up an immense palace, nothing more than rubble now, it's memory lost in the passage of time.

Ulyngar's hooves echoed ominously as they started across.

"See the valley on the other side?" Fred asked him. "That's where I need to go. There's a door there."

They crossed the stone field quickly, both horse and rider equally ill at ease. On the other side the land sloped gently down into a thicket. A small stream trickled over the rocks and Fred thought ruefully of the many happy festival days he had spent playing here as a child – all overshadowed by the last time he'd been here, on Horunvendush day. If Lizzie knew where he was going, she'd kill him – he had no doubt about it, but there was only one place he knew of to find the information he needed.

"I'll be as quick as I can, but I'm not sure how long it will take," he told the horse.

The stallion replied that he'd had a long day and would just as soon take a nap and wait for him to return.

Fred found the door and opened it. Inside was another door, shorter than the Underland door, about three feet high. His hand felt clammy as he turned it, halfway wishing it wouldn't open. It swung easily. Freddie took a deep breath and crawled though.

He remembered this place now, remembered running to the door in the valley by Hightopp Hill, his mind in such turmoil that he had barely given the strange second door a thought. Fred stood up, enclosed now in a secret room in a world where the clouds never rained and the sun never shone. It was unbearably hot, especially coming from the winter of Underland, and reminded him dimly of a sepulcher. He shivered despite the heat. The firelight played across the brick walls of the chimney ahead of him. He crept from the small alcove he stood in around the corner to where he could see the fire itself and the room on the other side.

Time passed slower here than in Underland he reminded himself, so he needed to move quickly. He hoped to hell the old man was still around, otherwise his goose was going to be cooked – literally.

"Stibbler?...Stibbler!" He called. "Anyone here?"

He reached out with his mind and sensed someone coming, but he didn't know the man well enough to tell if it was him or not. There was no way he was running through the fire. A minute later the fire hissed violently and sputtered as someone doused it with water. Stibbler stuck his head into the opening.

"Freddie? Is that you, m' boy?"

"Yes, sir." Fred climbed out, over the ashes of the fire. "Sorry to bother you."

"Not at all, lad. Though I would have thought you'd had enough of this place. I trust you're not here for a friendly chat." As he talked he threw fresh wood on the fire and lit it.

"I'm afraid not," said Fred. "I need to find someone – someone in the world I used to go to from here."

The man gave him long look. "Only two reasons a man'll come willingly to a place like this. He's running for his life, or he's looking for a woman. Which one is it today?"

Fred gave a short laugh. "Well, neither of those, though I am here _because_ of a woman."

"Aye, 'tis always the women. Would it be the invisible lass you left with?"

"That would be the one."

"She might be trying to get rid of you if she's sent you here, lad," he said gently.

Fred rubbed his neck nervously, feeling suddenly very far from home. "She doesn't know I'm here."

"Ah, well, then...find someone, you say?"

"Yes. I know you don't owe me a favor," said Fred, "hell, you saved my life when I came through here the first time. I'm the one who owes th.."

The man brushed aside his comment. "I don't keep a record of those kinds of things. There's only one score I care to see settled." He paused and in his mind, Fred saw a family, two young boys and a woman, laughing - all the same species as Stibbler. When the man spoke again, his voice was laced with restrained fury. "Is she dead? The Red Queen?"

When he'd come here the first time, Stibbler had told him that she was holding his family captive. "Yes, she's dead."

Stibbler closed his eyes and sighed with relief. "You don't know how long I've waited to hear that, lad." He looked up at Freddie. "She killed them, you know. Told me if you didn't come back that she'd release my family. When I went back th' next day, they were dead – my wife and my two sons. I've always felt a great measure of guilt for what I did to you.. I should never have taken your memories."

Fred shook his head. "In the end, it worked out for good. You did what you could to protect your family, I don't harbor any ill will against you. You could've just killed me."

"No, that I couldn't have done. Tell, me – how did she die?"

Fred's own memories of Racie's death sprang to mind. "I'd...rather not talk about it except to say that she did, and that I know because I was there."

The man studied him shrewdly, reading the hidden meaning behind his explanation. "I have a feeling," he said quietly, "that any debts between us have been paid in full and more. Now...the person you're looking for, I assume you'll not be wanting to resume your former occupation to find them."

"No. Definitely not."

"I know someone who can help you, but you're going to need to go to the building where you'd go t' get your charge. There's a woman there, an Underlandian. She'll help you, but you have to make sure you go to her and no other. Tell her who sent you, and if she asks, tell her where you're from. She'll be the one on the end."

"Thank you."

Stibbler nodded and walked him up the long hallway to the door. "Just be careful. Keep your hood up - you don't look like you're from here anymore. Somebody sees you that clean cut they'll be after you for sure."

"I will, and I'll be back as quick as I can."

Fred wrapped his cloak around himself, threw his hood up, and stepped outside into the street. The door behind him slammed shut and he heard the sounds of its deadbolts being slid back into place. He stood for a moment, dredging up long unused memories of which way he needed to go to get to the administration building. He turned to his right and started up the cobblestone alley, armed for the first time with the memories of who he really was and the knowledge of what lay before him.


	19. The Lost Children of Underland

_A/N: Sorry, I'm guilty of not rereading my own story's history before I write. I didn't realize I hadn't given Stibbler an accent in Long Journey Home. I went back and changed the last chapter._

_

* * *

_"_Think of the many children now  
Poor little boys and girls  
Who once had mother's loving arms  
To smooth their golden curls..._

_But now we see those wandering curls  
Hang careless round their brow  
They say to us, my papa's dead  
And I've no mother now..._

_O Savior, every orphan bless  
Wherever they may roam  
Bless every hand that lends them aid  
And bless the orphan's home..."_

_-The Carter Family_

* * *

Fred went slowly down the roads of Elphyne. If he'd forgotten his centuries of wandering in the joys found over the last spring and summer, they revisited him now like a slap in the face.

He hadn't realized before that it was his gift that allowed him to see what no one else apparently saw here, hiding in the shadows. In every corner he passed, something waited, biding their time until some unfortunate soul stopped nearby or until darkness fell and they slunk into the other-worlds to prey upon the living there. He saw them as clearly as if they were flesh and blood before him but did his best to keep his face directed to the road. He was keenly aware of all that he had to lose if he were to make a mistake and be found here, and he wondered not for the first time if this was really a good idea after all. Lying safe and warm in his bed with Lizzie cuddled beside him, the pros appeared to outweigh the cons, and the dangers of Elphyne seemed much more vague than they did when they gazed on him with piercing, bloodshot eyes from darkened doorways.

His senses were on full alert, and a chill went up his spine as a man, or what _appeared_ to be a man - dressed in a smart black suit with a black fedora, approached him from the opposite direction. Fred moved over, walking closer to the shadows, not knowing if the man were real or an apparition. One disadvantage he had was that because he could see those who existed both in the physical and spirit realms, he couldn't tell which realm they were actually from.

In Elphyne, there were 'real' beings who watched for strays like himself. It was the reason he had been so reluctant to bring Lizzie here in the first place, though he hadn't realized until they'd made it safely to Stibbler's house that she herself was merely another spirit and none of the other beings could see her in the first place. In the decades spent as Drop Dead Fred he hadn't stuck around long enough to learn the ins and outs of Elphyne's strange system of 'enforcement' – all he knew was that the more certifiably crazy you looked, the less apt you'd be to draw their attention. These 'enforcers' wandered the realm with the sole purpose of finding those who were outside of the network of Elphyne's odd work program. Rumors abounded as to what actually happened to those they snatched from the streets, but regardless, no one taken had ever been seen again. Imaginary friends were frequently harassed and quite a few had been numbered with those who had mysteriously disappeared. Life was dangerous in Elphyne if you looked normal, which was why he and his fellow imaginary friends had taken great pains to stand out. He'd been limited by what he could do - there was only so far weird clothes and crazy hair would take you, which was another reason he only came back when it was time for another charge. The old man was right, he'd never pass for a resident the way he was now. There was an alley between him and the suited man and he ducked into it, hoping his escape didn't look overly suspicious. Fred's hopes were dashed when the man turned the corner after him.

"You!" he shouted at Fred. "Stop where you are."

Fred stopped, but didn't turn around. Instead he scanned the man's mind trying to determine who he was and what he wanted. There wasn't much to go by – he wasn't a mortal in the traditional sense of the word, but he _was_ one of Elphyne's enforcers. Fred knew if he got caught, it would be the end of him.

"I'm stopped," he called, stalling for time. "What do you want with me?" He delved deeper into the man's thoughts, searching for anything he might be able to use. There seemed to be a problem with someone else in the city besides Stibbler harboring strays, and this enforcer had been tasked with finding them out. He heard heavy footfalls behind him on the stone alleyway as the man came up beside him.

"You don't look familiar," the man said in a sharp tone. "What's your business here?"

"I'm an imaginary friend."

"You're on the wrong side of the city for that. Please remove your hood."

Fred, grasping at the only straw he had, closed his hand around one of the gold coins he'd hidden in his cloak. He tried his best to sound pathetic as he spoke.

"Actually, sir, I'm glad y' found me," he said timidly. "I know where someone's hidin' th' strays. I was beaten, somethin' awful an' they took me in. I saw 'em when I was leavin' – a whole room full o' them."

He'd definitely gotten the man's attention. Finding one of the safe houses in Elphyne was akin to finding the holy grail. "Where are they? Which way?"

Fred pointed off to his left, the opposite way than he'd originally come. "That way, sir, three alleys over." He drew the coin out of the small inner pocket of his cloak and held it up before the man. "They gave me this as I was leavin', t' keep me quiet. It's yours if ya' want it."

Seconds ticked by like hours as Fred held his breath, hoping the officer would take the bribe and leave him be. Finally the man plucked the coin from his fingers and pocketed it.

"Get out of here, and get back to where you belong," he told Fred.

"Yes sir." Breathing a sigh of relief at his narrow reprieve, Fred turned back out of the alley and continued on to the center of the city.

As the streets grew wider with alleys joining one another, his trek was joined by other beings on their way to the administration building for new charges. He didn't bother to look around, but kept his eyes down and moved quickly through the gathering crowd. Finally he reached the multi-sided building where, as always, a long line was moving slowly in front. He took his spot, feeling more and more nervous about how much time he was spending here.

_[Aren't you having fun, yet? What are you so nervous about?] _thought Lizzie to him.

Crap. _ [Just standing in a long line. Pretty boring.]_ It was the truth, technically.

_[A long line? Are you at Six Flags again?] _

_[No, quit asking. You're going to ruin the surprise. You'll find out soon enough, I promise.] _At least he hoped so.

_[I heard that.]_

_[Love you... Now, go away!]_

_[This better be good... I'm going to bed.]_

_[Can I wake you up when I get home?]_

_[Only if you make it worth my while...]_

Fred laughed before he remembered where he was. A man with wild red hair, like flames on his head, and a silver cape standing next to him turned around.

"Drop Dead Fred? Is that you?"

Fred looked up, he was hoping he could get in and out of Elphyne without anyone recognizing him. Fortunately it was Go-to-hell Herman, someone he'd known long enough to trust. "Herman, hey good to see you."

"See me? You're the one everyone's going to be wantin' to see! We thought you were dead, we thought that girl took the pills or something. It's great to have you back."

"I'm not back, not by a long shot. I'm just here for a little information." Fred glanced around him, sifting through the other minds quickly. No one was paying attention to them. "I got out, Herman," he whispered. "I did it, I left."

The man stared at him, befuddled. "You mean... What _do_ you mean?"

"Me and the girl, we left and started a new life together."

Herman smiled. "Good for you, Fred," he said sincerely. "I'm glad one of us was able to start over. You know, I don't even remember how I got to this world." His eyes took on a far away look. "Just remember the fire. I don't think I'll ever find anyone else, not after what happened to my wife and my daughter. Too many years spent in penance for me not passing with them, I suppose. The kids, they kill th' pain, ya' know?"

"Yes," said Fred softly, "they do."

Their conversation had now attracted the attention of some nearby that he didn't recognize. He motioned to Herman, who glanced at the others and nodded slightly. They turned away from each other and fell silent. Elphyne wasn't a place to call attention to yourself, even if you did belong here.

Another hour passed before Fred was inside the building. Slowly he made his way into the line for the last window on his right. He leaned out of the line, trying to catch a glimpse of the attendant as the person at the window left and the next in line moved forward. Behind the window was someone shrouded in a black cape, similar in style to his own, with the hood pulled over their head. He hoped he was in the right line.

His turn finally came and he took the scrap of paper he'd written on out of his cloak as he went up to the window. The cloaked woman raised her head, and Fred knew why she was hiding her face. Before him was a girl in her late teens to early twenties, with hair as red as his own, and fair features. She stuck out like a sore thumb here, usually Elphyne didn't attract normal looking people. His blue eyes met her green ones as he slid the scrap of paper across to her.

"Stibbler sent me," he whispered. "I need to find this person, where he lives, if you can help me."

She stared back at him and he was confused by the emotions that he felt coming from her. He caught a flash of something - children laughing and running through the forest – a forest that looked...familiar.

"Where are you from?" she asked quietly.

"I'm from Underland."

"No," she whispered. "Where are you _from_?"

He paused, "Witzend." There would be no way...

An incredulous smile lit her face briefly. "I thought you looked familiar."

"What do you mean?" Everyone who would have known him from there was dead.

She shook her head. "I can't talk here, it's not safe." As she spoke she rewrote the name he'd given her and passed it under a greenish light. A few seconds later the sound of a key falling could be heard from behind her. "I was one of the children who followed you...through the door to here. We were playing down by the stream when you told us to run. We thought you were playing a game."

She fished the key from the tray where it had landed, tore the tag from it, and passed it to Fred.

Fred shook his head, unbelieving. "That's not possible. I...I didn't see anyone else."

"The door had already closed behind you, but one of the other girls could see it. You were already gone when we came through."

"Where are you from?" His words sounded far away, as though someone else had asked the question.

"You wouldn't recognize me, I was only eight then," she said, smiling sadly. "I'm Claire McKennon, my family lived in Witzend. You were my teacher." She looked over his shoulder at the line behind him. "I'm sorry, I wish I could talk more, but you have to go..."

"But...wait!" Fred was torn between the safety of leaving and not wanting to end their conversation. "The Red Queen, she's dead! Underland is safe, you can come home now!"

Her eyes flashed anxiously as others began to take notice of him. "I'll talk to Stibbler, but it's not that easy. You need to go, _now_, before someone comes to see what's going on."

With a last look at her, he turned and left the building. He fought the urge to run through the alleys back to Stibbler's and instead walked at a frustratingly normal pace, traveling the opposite way than his destination, just in case anyone was following him. Three streets over, he cut back towards Stibbler's house, convinced he'd managed to get out without seeming overtly suspicious.

Fred's mind reeled. This girl, and others had followed him through the door – to a world scarcely safer than where they'd come from in the first place. Now with his memories whole again, he tried in vain to understand how he could not have known or seen. He'd been at the old man's house all that day, in fact he hadn't left for nearly an entire month after he'd come through that door and past his fire. He slowly made his way to the only one who had any answers to what he'd just learned. Finally he found the familiar alley and knocked on the door. The peep hole opened, then quickly shut again. A moment later, he heard the sound of two heavy deadbolts being drawn back and the door opened and shut again as soon as he was inside.

It was mostly dark in the hallway, the light from the fireplace not reaching the far end of the meager home. Nevertheless, Fred turned immediately to Stibbler.

"Why didn't you tell me about the children?" he asked. "How many followed me? Where have they been?"

"Easy, son. I didn't even know you'd been followed myself until later that night, after you'd gone to sleep. I heard crying coming from back behind the fire. I put it out and went to see what was wrong. Imagine my surprise to find the space crammed with terrified children."

Crammed. The word itself shocked him – how many children would it take to fill a space that size? "How many?"

"Nine. Five girls, four boys. Seven from Witzend, two from Iplam. It's dangerous enough for an adult stray to be here in Elphyne, but a child... T'was a lot of work and near heartache to see them all into safety."

"But...surely they didn't stay here? Where..."

"Underland is not the only world that has a portal here. Nor is the world your Lizzie is from. We who keep them guard them with our lives. All but one of the children went to Averen, a world much like that of Underland. We would have settled all of them there, but that portal was discovered before we could. Claire, the lass you met, was the one who stayed here. We managed to secure her with another who worked here. She's been a great help to us, our eyes and ears on the inside so to speak."

Freddie was still having trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that nine children had unwittingly followed him through the door, saving their lives.

"The others, do you still know where they are? Is there a way to contact them?"

"Aye, another portal was found several years ago and we managed to get a message to them. I've already done what you're thinkin'. As soon as you left, I took the liberty of sending a message to the keeper. We'll let them know their homeland is safe if they wish to return. I don't know how many will, they've grown up in a different world and culture now. If I have news, I'll send it through the door to you."

"Yes, do that. I just...I'm having a hard time believing it."

"You did good, lad, warning them. Now...how about the one you came here for in the first place? Did you find what you were looking for?"

Fred still held the now crumpled tag in his hand. Now he turned his attention to it. The address was there, half a world away from where he'd last seen the man. He put the tag in the pocket of his cloak and looked back at Stibbler.

"Yes, I found him," he said.

"You'd best be going then. This house has been watched before. I'd like to get a fire burning as quick as possible."

Fred thanked the man and stepped back over the coals into the secret passage. As he entered the Tulgey Wood and the door to Elphyne closed behind him, his mind settled back on the children Stibbler had told him about. Nine...nine children, playing at the stream like all the children before them had on Festival days, himself included. He knew he couldn't even begin to understand what those poor kids had lived through. Thinking they were playing a game, hiding behind a secret door, only to be told they were the last ones left – their mothers, fathers, and siblings dead, their homes destroyed. It made his own struggles in the past seem pale and trite in comparison. He only hoped that they had managed to find some peace in the new world they'd learned to call home.

He mounted Ulyngar and left the Tulgey Woods, directing the stallion north. There was one last place he needed to visit before he returned home.

* * *

_A/N; This was one of those chapters that just insisted on writing itself. I'm not sure that the orphans of Underland will come up again in this story, maybe briefly, but I have ideas for the future. Originally I just needed him to get the address. If anyone would like to write a story about any of the orphans, feel free to play in my world :)  
_

_Updates may a bit longer with the holidays. Thanks for sticking with me :)_


	20. The Gift,  Part 1

"_Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?  
In the lane, snow is glistening -  
a beautiful sight,  
we're happy tonight,  
walking in a winter wonderland._

_Gone away is the bluebird,  
here to stay is a new bird.  
He sings a love song  
as we go along,  
walking in a winter wonderland."_

- F. Bernard, R. Smith

* * *

Though his journey to Elphyne had taken him the better part of an Underland day and evening, the journey Above that he made next, after changing into the clothes he'd left in the Room of Doors for such occasions, took only fifteen minutes by the same standard, and he managed to make it back home to Southern while it was still full dark. He sighed with relief as he entered the cozy living room. His cloak reeked of the strange acridness that marked the air of Elphyne and he took it off, tossing it outside the door to air out. In only the light from the fire, he nearly tripped over Lizzie who had, despite her earlier claims of going to bed, tried her best to wait up for him. She sat at the table, head pillowed on her arms, sleeping soundly.

Loathe to wake her, Fred knelt beside her chair, watching her for a moment, a slight smile tugging at his mouth.

"Lizzie..," he whispered, almost reverently and too quietly to wake her. "The trouble I get into for you, girl..."

Sliding an arm under her knees, he leaned her towards him and picked her up. She sighed and nestled her head against his chest, never waking as he carried her into their room and deposited her gently on the bed, leaving the door open for a bit of light and warmth from the fire. He changed out of the rest of his clothes and gratefully slipped into the bed beside her. Lizzie's eyes fluttered open sleepily as he lay down, and she rolled into him as he brought his arm around her, drawing her closer to him.

"Have fun?" she asked quietly.

"No," he said, ambivalently, "but we'll talk about it tomorrow."

She grunted her disapproval. "I'd make you talk, but I'm too tired to listen."

"Go to sleep, Snot-face, tomorrow's soon enough."

He kissed her hair and sighed, realizing that she was already asleep again. He supposed he'd need to tell her about the children he had learned of in Elphyne. Not that she wouldn't be as thrilled as he was to learn that they'd survived, but he was never going to hear the end of it when she heard he'd gone there again. He'd tell her... but not yet. First he had to convince her to go Above with him, not a place she'd seemed to have any compulsion to go. In fact he'd sensed quite a bit of _repulsion_ from her to the whole idea of ever setting foot up there again. Somehow, tomorrow he'd have to convince her that he'd make it worth her while. After all, that's where her Christmas present was, and bringing it to her wasn't exactly an option. As he felt himself drifting off to sleep, he knew he'd have his work cut out for him.

* * *

Despite having missed half a night of sleep, Fred still managed to wake before Lizzie. He slipped out of bed and rummaged through the dresser until he found the pair of jeans he kept stashed for when he needed to blend in Above – he didn't particularly like being stared at, and typical Underlandian garb was a bit...outdated. Besides, it was easier to get away with pulling pranks when you blended in with the crowd. He pulled them on and found a sweater that he thought would be warm enough for his planned excursion. Leaving Lizzie asleep, he left the room to make breakfast.

Lizzie woke slowly, stretching her arm out over the other side of the bed only to find it empty. Opening her eyes, she registered the fact, by the light streaming through the window, that she'd managed to sleep through half the morning once again. Jeez, she really needed to have Fred get her one of those battery powered alarm clocks next time he went Above. That or he needed to just wake her up when he woke up, though sometimes that didn't exactly culminate in them actually getting _out_ of bed. She sat up, and frowned. First, she realized she was still wearing her clothes from the day before, second, the smell of what could only be pancakes drifted in from the other room. Pulling the dress she'd slept in off over her head, she pulled a shirt out of Fred's drawer and threw it on before heading to the kitchen.

Lizzie watched amused while Fred, unaware of her presence, determinedly flipped a pancake up towards the ceiling and tried to catch it with his spatula. He missed, muttered something under his breath, then scooped it up off the floor to try again. On the table, plugged into some sort of small generator was a large, flat griddle covered with baking pancakes.

"You and your gadgets are gonna burn th' house down one of these days," she teased, walking into the kitchen area.

He turned and grinned at her. "Nonsense. They wouldn't sell it to me if it weren't safe."

"They obviously don't know you very well." It wasn't until then she noticed what he was wearing. "Are you going back Above?"

He concentrated on the breakfast he was making, flipping each cake over gently, ignoring her.

_[I know you heard me, Ding-bat.]_

"What makes you think I'm going Above?" he asked, not looking at her.

"Cause you look hot." She moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. It was so strange to see him dressed like he was, in jeans and a sweater like just a normal guy from her world. Something about it always struck Lizzie as scandalously attractive.

Fred kept his thoughts on cooking, trying not to read the thoughts of the woman behind him clad only in one of his shirts. As tempting as it was, they didn't have time for that today.

"You'd better get out of my shirt and get some warm clothes on if you want to find out what I'm giving you for Christmas." He winced as his brain caught up to his mouth.

Lizzie was quicker than him. She snaked under his arm to stand between him and the griddle. Her eyes glinted mischievously. "Did you say I'd better get out of your shirt?" She moved to unbutton it, but Fred stopped her, catching her hand in his.

"As lovely as that innuendo sounds, we don't have time for that today. You've slept half of th' morning away already."

"You could have woken me up," she pouted. "Fine, say the magic words and I'll piss off..."

He chuckled, hearing those long forgotten words from her mouth instead of his. "Piss off!"

"Ha! Those aren't the magic words," she smirked. "Okay, I'm going, I'm going..." She turned around to walk off towards the bedroom.

"Oh, hell..." Fred caught her arm and spun her back around, kissing her soundly before releasing her. "Now quit torturing me, and go get dressed!"

Lizzie sorted through her dresses until she found one that was both warm and she knew would fit, even so she couldn't lace it as tightly as she could have the week before. She wondered idly if she could make it through the winter before she had to pluck the laces out of all her dresses. With the return of her memories of Fred came the memories of things associated with him as well and she knew she was slightly further along than what Dyvych had guessed. Another four days would put her at the end of her 16th week. That meant she should have guessed something was up in the first place before Freddie had even left for Northern that fateful morning, but truth be told she hadn't been paying serious attention to it.

She picked up her cloak from where she'd slung it over the chair and fastened it around her shoulders, groaning at the prospect of yet another cold, wintry trip. Had it only been two weeks since the first snow fall? So much had happened since then, it hardly seemed that so little time could have passed. And what was up with Fred this morning? Usually he'd be bouncing off the walls, waking her up like a kid on Christmas morning if there was something he wanted her to see. His reticence seemed oddly out of character for him and she probed his mind, looking for a clue.

[_Quit snooping. Aren't you dressed, yet?]_

_[You're a grouch-puss this morning. Where are we going?]_

_[You'll see.]_

Lizzie rolled her eyes, hearing the answer she'd expected, and walked back out of the bedroom. She grabbed a plate of pancakes and ate hurriedly. Fred had on a black leather jacket, completing his non-Underlandian wardrobe. She frowned as he ran his hand nervously through his hair.

He scowled at her. "What? I thought you said I looked good."

"You do. So...I suppose it's back out into the Winter Wonderland, huh?"

"Sorry, Lizzie, and it's kind of a long ride. We really need to look for more doors when it gets warm."

"I may be out of commission for hiking this Spring, but you could take Tarrant along."

"He's no fun," grumbled Fred. "Come on, Llewyn's waiting on us."

Lizzie waved her hand dismissively. "I doubt she's late for anything. Why are you dressed that?"

His blue eyes flashed with annoyance. "Do you want to know what your present is or not?"

"I don't know, maybe..."

"Well, if you're not sure, I suppose it can wait until next year." He took off his jacket.

"What do you mean _next year_? Why do I have to wait a whole year if we don't leave right now?"

"If I told you _that_, it wouldn't be a surprise." Fred shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. "That's okay, we can stay home. It's up to you, Snot-face." He turned to hide his grin, knowing there was no way she'd back out of it now.

She sighed, "Alright, come on, let's go."

He put his jacket back on and kissed her forehead on his way past her to the door.

"I'm such a sucker," she muttered.

_[I didn't say it, you did.]_

* * *

They passed through three doors before Lizzie had any inkling as to where they were going, but as they turned southeast from the door that opened north of the Tulgey Wood, a slow, sick churning began in the pit of her stomach. By the time they reached the fourth door at the edge of the clearing, she was barely keeping the nausea at bay. Fred slid from the mare's back to hold the door open and followed them through. Instead of climbing back up, he held his hands out to Lizzie.

"Last stop."

She couldn't move, rooted in place by what she knew was an irrational but all encompassing fear of where the next door would lead to. Her eyes met his, and she shook her head.

"I don't want to be here, Freddie," she whispered.

"I know," he answered, "Just come here, and we'll talk about it."

She reached her arms out and let him lift her down from Llewyn.

He pulled her against him, her fear was so great that it made his own heart beat faster just to sense it through her. "I made you a promise," her told her quietly. "I swore I'd never hurt you... I'd never let you be hurt."

"I know. I trust you, Fred, I do...I just don't trust anyone else up there, and I don't even remember what happened."

"I understand, completely. That's why we wouldn't be going anywhere near where you used to live. I've had enough of those idiots to last me more than a few lifetimes and then some."

She couldn't help a small smile at that.

"In fact, the top of the rabbit hole isn't even in your own country."

Little by little he felt her fear recede, replaced by skepticism.

"Please, Lizzie, give me a chance. I promise I'll make it worth your while."

Something about him, about the whole situation, confused her. This wasn't something he'd thought up on a whim, that much she knew, but why Above, and why now? Whatever it was it obviously meant a great deal to him that he convince her to go – he'd never drag her out here if it didn't.

"Nowhere I used to live?"

"Not even the same state, I swear."

After a lengthy pause, during which Fred seemed to be holding his breath, she finally relented. "Fine," she said, poking his chest, "but this better be worth it."

He smiled slightly, "Oh, I doubt you'll forget it."

"I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing." She walked away from him, over to the tree door that lead into the room at the bottom of the rabbit hole.

"Me neither," he murmured worriedly under his breath.

* * *

Fred had long since grown weary of waiting for Nivens to show up to get him to the top of the hole and had built his own contraption to solve the problem. What had started out as a whim the last summer had culminated in hours spent pouring over books and driving himself crazy learning more about physics than he'd ever wanted to know. The result (after a couple of dangerous trial runs that he hadn't mentioned to Lizzie) had really paid off, though. Anything was better than falling and hitting the floor, however much inertia didn't affect your fall down the magical tunnel.

On one side of the room now sat a tall box resembling a cross between an old fashioned elevator and a phone booth. It consisted of a framework of two by fours, a small plywood floor about two and a half feet square, and trellis he'd nailed onto three sides of the seven foot tall box. At the top of the box, a thick rope was connected which wound around a pulley attached to a desk which had forever floated near the top of the tunnel. It then ran through another series of pulleys, aided by gears which looked like they'd been around a good couple of centuries, and the entire system was powered by a hand crank inside the box itself. The lift stopped about eight feet from the top where carefully anchored scaffolding led underneath the actual hole to which Fred had attached a trap door, complete with fake grass on the top.

He led her over to the box, holding his arm out for her to enter first.

"Your chariot, m' lady."

"Oh my gosh! Fred, is this why you kept running off here all last summer?" She looked up and surveyed the system of mechanics, amazed. She turned back to him. "Why do I get the feeling you're a hell of a lot smarter than you want anybody to think you are?"

He smirked at her. "'Cause then everyone would suddenly need me t' fix _their_ crap. Come on..."

She climbed in and Fred followed after her. He wound the crank as they ascended the seemingly endless tunnel. Finally the box hit the top pulley. Fred locked the hand crank, and led them out onto the scaffolding until they were just below the door. He unbolted the it, letting it swing inwards towards them. Snow that had set atop fell through and hit the board they stood on.

Lizzie groaned. "It's winter there, _too_?"

"Hold on a minute," he told her, "let me make sure the coast is clear."

Fred unfolded a small stepladder that was leaning against the railing. Climbing up, he slowly raised his head out of the hole and looked around. Seeing no one, he motioned for Lizzie to follow him through. Grabbing her hand, he helped her up, pulling the trapdoor back up and bolting from the top this time. He stuck a stick up in the snow beside it. Noticing Lizzie looking at him strangely, he explained that he didn't feel like searching half the lot for the door in case it snowed while they were gone.

Lizzie looked around. For the first time in nearly a year she was surrounded by the sights and sounds of the world she'd once called home. Cars on the road in front of them seemed to race by faster than she remembered them ever moving. Neon lights proclaiming the 'Golden Arches' had now fed 5 billion lit the snow beside the lot they stood in.

"Is it dawn or dusk?" she asked him.

"Well, unless the sun's decided to start setting in the east, I think it's dawn." He took her hand. "We're a lot earlier than I thought we'd be. I swear, I grew up in Underland and I still can't figure out how time works there."

"See, we had plenty of time to get sidetracked this morning," she protested.

"Actually, we're probably just really late... Let's go in here a minute. I need to see what day it is."

The minute she opened the door and the smell of fast food hit her senses, Lizzie almost threw up.

"Ugh, you go in. I'll stay here."

Fred looked at her, concerned. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just too much fresh air and healthy food the last year. Kiddo doesn't like McDonald's apparently."

He gave her a quick kiss. "Don't worry, I'll have him corrupted in no time."

She laughed as he disappeared into the restaurant. He came out a minute later, looking relieved.

"Well, not only are we early, we have plenty of time to waste until our flight leaves."

"Flight?"

"Sorry, Snot-face, there's no doors in this world."

"Well, duh, that's not what I meant. Where are we going? Is it warm there?"

"Not telling, and no, sorry, still cold. Let's see if we can catch a cab. I'm freezing."

"Wimp."

_[I'd be nice to me if I was you. I have your ticket.]_

_[Uh huh, what are you gonna do, leave your pregnant wife out in the snow?]_

_[Nope, I'll just drag you back home an' you can wait 'till next year.]_

* * *

The airport was bustling and busy, but seemed oddly less crowded than Lizzie had thought that Heathrow should have been. People weren't strolling leisurely down the corridors, but rushed about, several with packages wrapped in Christmas paper and bows or carrying gift bags as they scurried to their gates. She and Fred were the only ones it seemed who weren't in a hurry, he'd said they would have several hours to waste and sitting at your gate for half the morning was about as boring as an airport could get.

Of the shops they passed, more seemed to be closed than open which struck her as odd. She'd done quite a bit of traveling with Charles the first year they'd been married and she'd never seen the stores shut down. They catered to the business of travelers and even at 2:00am on a Sunday you could still usually buy a magazine and have a cup of coffee.

"Freddie, what day _is_ it?"

He stopped walking and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a ticket, handing it to her. She took it and looked it over. The first thing she noticed was that they were going to New York and she smiled at that, true to his word he'd promised they wouldn't even be in the same state as her mother. Then she saw the date and tears sprang to her eyes.

"It's Christmas," she whispered.


	21. The Gift, Part 2

_A/N: I am so sorry about the wait on this. I have all intentions of finishing it and I'm in the process of re-reading both LJH and MOY in order to get the voices right since it's been so long since I've played in Fred and Lizzie's world. _

_This chapter is short, only half what it was meant to be, but I'm putting it up as a show of good faith and also because **I need you guys to encourage me**. I know how everything turns out, but real life (and a rabid plot bunny for Dukes of Hazzard) hijacked this story last year._

* * *

_"__Hold my hand and we're halfway there,  
hold my hand and I'll take you there,  
Somehow, Someday, Somewhere."  
-Stephen Sondheim  
_

* * *

"Are you okay?"

Lizzie's voice startled him out of his reverie and he sighed before answering. "Just remembering."

She grinned knowingly. "It's probably a lot more fun here if you're invisible, huh?"

"Unfortunately," he agreed. "Can't we go somewhere else?"

"What time is it?"

Fred checked the watch he'd put on that morning. He'd set it on Eastern time for New York so he had to do some quick math before answering, "Um, almost eight."

"Oh good, we only have about 45 minutes. I guess we should get off when it stops again at our terminal."

Fred hopped up out of his seat. "No way, that's three more stops! I'm not going to be able to control my alter ego if I have to sit here five more minutes."

As they walked through the wide corridors, Fred kept looking around as though he were trying to see something out the windows as they passed by each gate.

"What are you looking for?" Lizzie asked him.

"A flight that's just come it but hasn't unloaded yet."

"There's one over there." She pointed to a British Airways that had just taxied up to its gate.

He noticed that the guy manning the desk there was young, probably very new. He grinned and pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "Perfect." He handed her the pack he'd brought with him. "Here, take this. I'll be right back." He left her and went over to the desk at the gate. Putting on his best serious face, he walked up to the guy at the counter.

"Can I help you?" the man asked politely.

"Yeah, hi," said Fred, anxiously, "I'm supposed to be meeting some people on this flight, but I have no idea who they are, I'm just the driver that the company sent to pick them up. Problem is, I'm supposed to be meeting two _more_ people at Terminal 4 in about fifteen minutes. Would it be possible for you to page them for me when the flight unloads and have them meet me there?"

"Oh sure," the guy said, "not a problem. What are their names?"

Fred handed him the slip of paper, and the guy did a double take. "Yeah," said Fred, "don't even ask me how to pronounce them. Big corporate meeting with the money bags overseas I guess."

"Well, I'll do my best."

"Thanks."

Fred turned and went back over to Lizzie.

"We'd better get moving."

She stopped, but he pulled her along with him. "What did you just do?" she hissed.

"Why do you think I did something? ...Move faster."

"Because no matter how serious you _pretend_ to be sometimes, you're still Drop Dead Fred."

He just grinned and walked on. They were halfway to their own gate when the airport PA system came on.

"Ayneeda Pissquik and Malexa Krost, please meet your party at Terminal 4."

Fred laughed.

Lizzie turned to him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "What did he say?"

"Something about needing to go take a piss, I think. Hope he gets there in time."

She punched his arm. "You're awful! You're going to get that poor guy fired."

"I prefer to think of it as teaching him a lesson in not trusting strangers with weird announcements."

The announcement was made once again and Fred burst out laughing. "Come on, let's go catch a plane."

After the de-icing truck had finished showering the wings of their plane with whatever it was that kept them from icing over during their flight, it was almost 9:00 am in London. The plane took its place in the queue of others slowly rolling down the tarmac towards the south runway and its eventual destination on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. Lizzie found their seats and plopped down in the one next to the window.

"Hey," complained Fred, "you don't get the window the whole time. I'm not sitting over here looking at the back of people's heads for seven hours."

"We'll switch halfway." She rummaged through the brochures and travel magazines in the pocket on the seat in front of her and sighed. "You should have told me we were going to be on a plane, I would have brought a book."

"If I'd told you where we were going, you wouldn't have come," he reminded her. "Besides...," he opened his pack and took out a rather thick book and handed it to her. "I got you one the other day when I was here."

She looked at the cover. "Jane Eyre! I love this book."

"Figures, I asked the lady at the bookstore for something sappy and girly that would make me want to vomit." He ignored her rolling eyes. "Oh, here you go, she said she heard this was a good one, too." He took another book out and set it in her lap, trying not to laugh at the expression on her face, which had paled noticeably.

"Uh..." She picked it up and ran her thumb along the side, flipping through the pages until she stopped suddenly and opened the book to the page she'd just passed, redness creeping over her cheeks. "Um...isn't she a little...under dressed?"

"I dunno. What do you think appropriate attire for having a baby _is_?" he laughed.

She shut the book and handed Natural Childbirth, the Bradley Way back to him. "I don't think I'm ready to read that, yet."

He turned to face her, his eyes changing subtly with his demeanor. "It'll be fine, Lizzie," he assured her. "It's just another journey, and I'll be right beside you."

* * *

The flight itself was uneventful, and Lizzie nudged Fred awake as they neared New York.

"Hey, we're almost there."

"Riiight..," he yawned, "trust me, we'll be circling for half an hour. Wake me when we start descending."

Instead she elbowed him. "Don't go back to sleep, tell me where we're going."

"No."

"Well I have to know sometime. What time is it here?"

He glanced at his watch. "10:45..._am_," he said, closing his eyes once again.

Lizzie sighed and turned to the window. The sun shone brightly over the Atlantic, and she could see the shore of the United States in the distance. She remembered another trip, coming back from a meeting that Charles had attended overseas.

That life seemed so far away now. She had fallen in love so completely with her life in Underland, with Fred, and with those she'd met in Marmoreal and Southern that it felt like _she_ was the stranger now, and this world as alien to her as Ephyne. As the polished metal and gleaming windows of the New York skyline came into view, she found herself longing instead for her cabin in Witzend.

Fred leaned against her and rested his chin on her shoulder, catching her thoughts. "It wasn't always like that, you know," he said, quietly. "I remember when most of what you see now was a lot more like Underland."

"You've lived a long time."

He looked past her, down over the sprawling metropolis. "Being alive and living are two different things, Lizzie," he murmured.


End file.
